Lovely, Dark and Deep
by Shadowlass
Summary: She dreamed about him every night. But they weren't dreams, and he wasn't content to keep to the shadows. Reylo story inspired by the Hades and Persephone myth, with elements of Eros and Psyche and Beauty and the Beast.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

Luke said no. He listened to her story, watched the holo of General Organa entreating him to return, somberly thanked Rey for returning his lightsaber, and said no. No, he would not return to assist the Resistance. No, he would not train her. No, he would not even record a response to his sister. His public life was over. If he left Ahch-To, it would be in a box. He bade her a safe journey back and did not wait to watch her ship depart.

Her words to Chewbacca, as she boarded, were brief. He was disgusted. She was disappointed. Luke Skywalker was not the man she'd imagined. He may have been a great hero once, but those days were behind him.

She never dreamed of the island again.

* * *

 **Chapter One**

He waited for her at night.

Each night she swayed slowly towards him beneath the trees, their canopy blocking out the moonlight, and took his outstretched hand. He drew her towards him and wordlessly led her into the forest. She had no sense of time passing as they walked, her hand tucked in the crook of his elbow, he sometimes pausing to hold a branch out of their way. The hints of moonlight that shivered over his face showed his shadowed eyes, the curve of his mouth. Sometimes they slowed their progress through the woods to listen to the chatter of night creatures or the murmur of the breeze. Before she roused from her dream he would whisper a kiss against her lips, and she would awake with her mind still spinning.

Every night was a little different, each time he held out his hand and she went to him. She remembered the hazy pleasure of the night before and relished the chance to slip into the same floating world. As they walked through the forest he bent to her, brushing his lips against her hair, released from her knots and spilling down her shoulders. After a time he stopped and drew her against him, fitting her under his arms and stroking his hands up and down her back as she sighed in pleasure.

The dreams were her refuge.

The never-before known feeling of being small and fragile, yet not vulnerable, was heady. She loved the feeling, wished she could bathe in it. She had always taken care of her herself, because she had to. It had become her very nature. But this luxury was so rare, so delicious. She wished to see him fight to defend her, to prove he would protect her from the universe. He told he would, his voice hoarse, and she laughed and allowed him to scatter kisses across her face and down her neck. He buried his face in the hollow of her shoulder and she preened against his hands as they ran over her body. His hands were strong, but their touch was reverent.

During the day she tried not to think of her dreams. They were fantastical and absurd.

She found time to walk in the forest almost every day. How strange to imagine someone she loathed so much in a place she found such peace in. Perhaps, after finding him in the forests on Takodana and Starkiller, she simply associated them. She should be frightened of forests, really. But they called to her the way oceans once had.

She never felt threatened in the dreams. They were intoxicating, and when she lay her head on the pillow she was eager to be spellbound again. She told no one, because she could imagine their disgust.

She only knew she didn't want the dreams to end.

* * *

Life on D'Qar was busy. Loud. The constant noise made her tense. Niima Outpost could be loud, but she was seldom there. Here she was around people all the time, and they talked constantly. Machinery blasting, ships landing and taking off. People rushing around muttering. Even in her room, she could hear people outside and in the halls. On Jakku she'd gone days without seeing people.

Most of the people at the base were friendly. Finn was there, but she only saw him at meals sometimes. He was devout in his service to the Resistance, convinced that the destruction of Starkiller signified the vulnerability of the First Order. He buried himself in Resistance work with the passion of a true believer, and Rey realized he'd traded one religion for another; this one, at least, he'd chosen for himself.

In his spare time he threw himself zealously into the social life of the base, making up for lost time. He tried to draw her into it, but every time she tried to fit in with the others on the base she felt like a liar. The first time a Resistance member had tried to kiss her she'd knocked him down and received a written reprimand. These people believed in what they did and worked hard, but when they weren't working they seemed messy and casual in a way that repelled her.

She wasn't a casual person. She wasn't comfortable pretending things didn't matter, because they did. If things like that didn't matter to her she could have had a much easier life on Jakku.

Poe said she was reticent because she'd been sheltered, which didn't make sense to her. She couldn't remember a time in which she'd been sheltered or protected, never had to fight and guard herself against anything that walked or breathed. She didn't have to carry her staff on the base, but that didn't mean there was nothing to protect herself against. Everyone else there felt something she did not. They had a love for what they did, but she felt only a longing for that love, for that sense of belonging.

She relaxed only in her dreams. She didn't have to struggle to reach them, as she had on Jakku. Each night they welcomed her, and she slid into them gratefully.

Maybe things would have been different if Luke Skywalker had returned. Maybe if he trained her she would have had a purpose on this strange world, where she was alone in a different way than she had been on Jakku. There she'd been independent, at least; here she was a cog in a machine. She felt, somehow, less significant than ever.

She hadn't known that was possible.

She had the Force. She felt it, a half-hidden sense, one she couldn't exercise. She'd been able to control it only three times, all of them on Starkiller Base. Kylo Ren had awoken it in her … or given it to her. Or maybe she'd taken it from him. She'd been scavenging her entire life; maybe she'd finally found something of real value.

But when she took it, she must have taken part of him. She could feel it inside her. Dissatisfaction. A longing for more than this cramped life. She'd stumbled into the Resistance as a kindness, and somehow it was assumed she'd remain. The only thing keeping her on D'Qar was uncertainty.

She thought, sometimes, that she should avoid the forest. It brought her peace, but it was wrong, surely, to need so much comfort. But the idea of enduring the camp without the relief of the forest filled her with dread.

Maybe that was its own answer.

She'd been on D'Qar for almost three months when she realized the days were getting shorter. She headed for the forest as soon as her shift in the mechanics' bay ended and came out only when it was growing too dim to see, but the time she spent there was shrinking; she could feel its loss upon her soul. Soon, she realized with a falling heart, she'd have only her dreams to sustain her.

* * *

It had happened: The first evening when it was too dark for her to walk in the forest after work. She felt uneasy as she lay in bed that night, and as she felt sleep overwhelm her she had the fleeting fear that the forest would abandon her dreams as well. But she opened her eyes and there he was, dark and beautiful, holding his arms open for her. She ran inside them and pressed her face against his chest. He cupped her cheek and she leaned into him, trying to push closer. He hummed his pleasure, and it was long time before they moved. This time with him was the only thing right in her world, and she wished she could never wake up.

The next morning she decided to skip breakfast in favor of scraping out some time to walk in the forest.

She passed Poe on her way out of the compound and told him she was skipping breakfast. Poe wished her a happy walk and turned when friends hailed him, the strange girl who preferred the forest to the Resistance soon forgotten.

* * *

The forest felt different—vastly different—depending on what time she visited. In the late afternoon and early evenings it was mellow and sleepy. At night—in her dreams, at least—it was mysterious and otherworldly, a different planet instead of a different time. In the early morning, she found, it was hushed, painted with golden light and inexpressibly ancient.

There was something overwhelming about it. She stopped, dizzy, sinking down on a boulder to compose herself. She buried her face in her hands, trying to get her brain to stop spinning.

After a long moment she looked up, and there he was.

He was tall and broad, his face unmasked and tender. She realized, then, that she was asleep. In her dreams they had only walked through the forest at night; this was the first time she'd seen him, the Kylo Ren of her imagining, in the daytime. His dark robes melted into the shadows thrown by the trees, but his pale face, shot through with the mark she'd left on him on Starkiller, shone clearly. She'd felt the scar under her fingers, but the moonlight had not permitted her a clear view of it. In the morning light she could see it … and see how his eyes searched over her. She wasn't surprised. Even barely able to see him she'd felt his gaze pressing against her skin like a caress.

How odd that she was aware this was a dream. Each night as she walked with him it seemed as real as life, and she never thought beyond each moment. Maybe her dreams were changing.

"Hello, my darling," he said softly. He reached out as if to touch her face, and everything went black.

* * *

She sighed a little as she woke up. The best of her day was already behind her, lost with her dreams. She barely remembered it—she was walking into the forest alone; it was daylight, and he wasn't waiting for her. She'd been surprised that he finally arrived … she'd thought he wasn't coming…

Rey girded herself against another day on D'Qar and opened her eyes. But instead of the plain whitewashed walls of her quarters, these were marble; she only recognized the costly material from a holo. The room was large and airy, with big windows and a bed like a vast cushion. The air smelled of flowers, and for a moment she thought she was still dreaming.

Then she turned around and there he was, leaning against the wall. The scar she'd given him was vivid across his face, and his eyes were hungry upon her.

Disbelief curdled in her chest.

For a moment she couldn't move. She thought he must have used the Force to hold her in place, as he had on Takodana, but he didn't have an arm stretched out to her; he looked relaxed, even. As if this were an ordinary occurrence, seizing women. Seizing _her._

It was the second time he'd taken her. It _was_ an ordinary occurrence.

She shoved back what felt like a dozen plush coverlets and sprang from the bed. Instead of her utilitarian sleepwear from the base she was wearing a ridiculously thin shift embroidered with tiny flowers. She might have been excited to wear it if she weren't here.

There were doors at either side of the room; she ran halfway to one only to realize it was the 'fresher; she didn't want the 'fresher, she wanted a way out. Kylo Ren was between her and the other door, so she flew to one of windows instead. It was actually, she realized gratefully, a kind of door. She snatched it open and ran through it, only to skid to a halt.

Instead of leading to freedom, or even a maze of rooms she could lose him in, the door led only to a balcony overlooking a lake. It was ringed with enough greenery that any other time she would have cried with wonder. But now—now she was trapped. She stared at the beautiful sight, unable to reconcile it with the nightmare that was happening.

He moved behind her onto the balcony and reached his arms around her to rest them on the railing, boxing her in. "I thought you'd like it here. I know there will be a period of adjustment, but I did it for both of us. You were miserable on D'Qar. It hurt me. Your loneliness was unabated."

Her mind darted but settled on nothing. She couldn't think, couldn't begin to imagine why he'd taken her and brought her here. It could not have been because he felt bad for her. That wasn't something you did for someone else.

Or maybe it was. Maybe it just wasn't something someone would do for her. Even Finn hadn't noticed how disengaged she was on D'Qar, and he was the best friend she'd ever had. The only person who'd ever done anything for her. The only thing Kylo Ren had ever wanted from her was the map to Luke Skywalker.

And to teach her, a little voice inside her reminded. Skywalker hadn't cared about her skill in the Force or what she did with it. But Kylo Ren had. Back on Starkiller he'd held her against a sheer drop into nothingness, could have pushed her into it without effort, and instead he'd asked her to train with him. He'd thought she had something of value, something in herself.

But wasn't that another way of using her? He hadn't offered out of kindness. There was nothing altruistic about Kylo Ren. "So you brought me here because you're a humanitarian?" she scoffed.

He laughed softly, his breath ruffling her hair. "No, not at all. I only do things because I want to. That's a prerogative I've won."

She twisted around in his arms, facing him. He didn't move back, even when she pushed. "You want me to be a pawn for Snoke, like you."

"I'd never want you to be a pawn."

Her gaze sharpened. "You want me to help you defeat him."

"There's nothing to defeat. I vanquished him before I ever came to you. He's dust. What was the First Order follows me now. But there's no reason not to call it what it really is: The Galactic Empire. I've restored it, and I'm taking back everything that was lost."

Rey gripped the railing until it began to bite into her hand. Was it possible? How could the Resistance not know?

Or did they know and were keeping the knowledge secret? She wasn't someone the command confided in. She was just a mechanic, a cog in a larger machine, easily replaceable.

Had they even noticed that she was gone?

"So you're…"

"Emperor. It's what I was born for. I've seen it in dreams many times, from my earliest childhood. Snoke was a distraction. A mirage."

Kylo Ren, the ruler of the galaxy? Kylo Ren, who'd killed his father and hurt Finn? Who'd kidnapped her and pushed his way into her mind, then flinched, his face shocked and vulnerable, when she'd done it to him?

Kylo Ren, who'd looked at her with beseeching eyes and begged her to let him teach her?

How could they all be the same person?

"Where am I?"

"My grandmother's home world, Naboo. This estate belonged to my family many years ago. Do you like it?"

She couldn't answer him, wouldn't. He knew she'd spent her life on Jakku; that was why he'd chosen this place. She knew it, knew he was using it like a tool to dismantle her resistance. The lake, the flowers, the lush green hills: She'd never imagined anything so gorgeous, like a refutation of Jakku's very existence. Its beauty clawed at her soul. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Why do you think?"

She shook her head. Thoughts wouldn't coalesce. Her outrage at being taken, her unreasonable ambivalence at seeing him, her visceral longing for this place: they all cycled through her mind unceasingly.

He sighed. "Rey, you were dying on the vine. Why did you stay with the Resistance when they don't care about you? Didn't you know I'd take care of you?"

He pushed a lock of hair away from her forehead. His eyes were tender and unyielding.

"You wanted family, Rey. I'm offering you one. Luke Skywalker could have, the Resistance could have, but they didn't. But I'll train you. Everything you ever wanted to learn, I'll teach you. Everywhere you ever wanted to go, I'll take you. You'll never be alone. I'll be your master, and you'll be everything you were ever meant to be."

Kylo Ren, teach her? Her thoughts darted until they blurred and became sluggish. She was horrified. Revolted. Even frightened.

But not enough. Not enough that something in her, something buried deep, wasn't excited.

She turned again, her back to him, so he wouldn't see her face and know.

She was afraid, very much afraid, that he already did.

No. Rey shored up her belief, the thing that had gotten her through so many years of longing and deprivation: It was impossible; she was not drawn to him. His dreams were infecting her. She had to get out of this house, off this planet, before she became as lost as he was. "You think I'll just give in?"

"Not at all; I know you. You'll want to fight, you'll try to fight. But you'll lose. Because the one you'll really be fighting against is yourself."

He pulled back from the railing. She didn't turn, but she could hear him move to the door.

"Welcome home, Rey."


	2. Chapter 2

The wind brushed at her face, stinging just a bit. She could hear the calling of birds. She could feel the bite of the railing beneath her fingers.

It was not a dream.

Kylo Ren's footsteps had long faded before she returned to the bedroom. She didn't see her Resistance-issued jumpsuit, but neatly folded atop a chair were a pair of trousers and a long-sleeved shirt, finely woven, and a pair of boots rested on the floor beneath. She put them on and crept through the house, quiet as a mouse. She didn't see Kylo. She didn't see anyone at all.

Then she was out in the lushness, the overwhelming beauty of this impossible place. She had no pack, no staff, so she moved quickly. She went in the opposite direction from the lake shore; there was nothing to help her there. The villa was at the base of a hill, so she started up, into the woods, not knowing what she'd find. She tried not to think about Kylo Ren or what he'd said to her. And she especially tried not to think of the unacceptable thrill that went through her at the thought of him.

Her ability to ignore the ugly truth had kept her moving forward all those years on Jakku, when hunger and loneliness had threatened to strangle her. If she had dwelled on her grief and longing for her family, she knew her doubts would have overwhelmed her. She couldn't have maintained hope if she recognized reality, so she had believed what she needed to in order to keep body and soul together.

She knew, now, that her inability to face the truth had kept her chained to Jakku. She had waited for people who wouldn't come. Who were dead, maybe. She had waited until BB-8 had needed her help, until Finn had grabbed her hand, until she'd boarded the _Millennium Falcon_ and flown off into space.

If she had faced reality, she would have found a way to leave Jakku before that. She would never have met Han Solo or General Organa. She would never have walked in her dreams with Kylo Ren, and never been his prisoner, not once, but twice.

Maybe it was time she faced facts. Ignoring the truth had never brought her happiness, only bound her in stasis.

But she had never in her life given in. On the balcony Kylo Ren had spoken to her softly, as he had on Starkiller. As he had on D'Qar. He surrounded her with beauty, and it was seductive. _He_ was seductive. The things he offered, the way he looked at her. Everything about this place was designed to tempt her. It was like he'd seen her dreams and was offering them to her.

 _You wanted family, Rey. I'm offering you one._

She would find her family, her real family, without him. No matter what Maz Kanata said, her family was out there. Kylo Ren could never be like family to her. How could a man who'd devoted himself to darkness, who'd done so much evil, even pretend to want such a thing? How could a man who'd chosen to mortify himself in a mask and distort his voice—like he hated everything about himself—even want a family? He'd had a family once, and he'd thrown it away. She would have been so happy with so much less than he'd had, and he hadn't even cared to keep it. What could he know of family? What could he know of what she wanted, what she needed?

 _You wouldn't just be a cog to him_ , something inside her whispered. He'd come for her twice. The first time for what she knew, but this time for herself. To be wanted for what she was, something nobody else was, was beyond her ken.

She'd never been anything to anyone, but he saw something special in her.

She tried to force the warmth that thought evoked away. This place was chosen to seep into her. That was his plan, she knew, and it was working. Already she wanted to walk every path in the garden, learn every tree in the forest. Watch the birds fuss over blooms and bees drunkenly bob in the air.

 _You'll never be alone._

Rey shut her eyes. She hadn't been alone on D'Qar; if she'd wanted, she hadn't had to be alone on Jakku. She could have had any kind of company, all the time. But it wasn't what she wanted.

Kylo Ren didn't know what she needed.

 _I'll be your master, and you'll be everything you were meant to be._

No man was her master. Least of all a dark-eyed, sulky-mouthed demon who'd pursued her from planet to planet.

He didn't want anything good for her or anyone else.

 _He offered before,_ a little voice inside her whispered. _He wanted to help you. He didn't have anything to gain when you were at the edge of a cliff._

Rey froze, remembering the look in his eyes. That had been real. She'd been too enraged by what he'd done to Han Solo and Finn to consider it. But if he'd made that offer earlier, before she'd seen him stain his hands? She didn't want to think about what she would have done.

She suspected she knew.

* * *

It took her hours to reach the peak, and she felt every step. It had been months—since Starkiller—that she had exerted herself so strenuously.

She couldn't resist stopping once or twice, caught by the beauty of the place. There were animals she'd never seen before, and some she'd seen only in holos. Even the familiar ones called to her; the squirrels reminded her of the ones on D'Qar. But the deer here were much smaller, and didn't start when she came upon them. They had no fear of humans, as if no one on the island would do them harm.

She wished she had their confidence.

From the top of the peak she could see for miles. On one side of the hill was the villa and its lush gardens; on the other, a thick forest. And below it—below it, a wide expanse of azure water. They were on an island.

And she couldn't swim.

* * *

The villa was as quiet when she returned as it had been when she left, and she wondered if they were actually the only people on the island.

A ridiculous frisson of pleasure shot through her at the thought. _This was hers. She never had to leave it. She could let its peace and beauty overwhelm her, let its lushness nourish the soul Jakku had left desiccated._

Unnerved, she pushed the thought away. Where she lived didn't matter.

She scowled at her lame attempt at self-deception. If that were true, why had she been so frantic at the thought of losing access to the forest on D'Qar?

Is that why he'd chosen this place? Had he known it would send tendrils around her that would lash her here?

For the moment she was trapped. She could only try not to surrender to the island.

He didn't want to hurt her. She accepted that. She didn't know why he had fixated on her, but she could see that he believed in his own good intentions. But it was difficult for her to trust in the better nature of a man she'd seen murder his own father. How could he value her more than his father? A man who'd cradled him in his first moments of life? Watched as he took his first steps?

Even on Starkiller she'd seen the tenderness as Han Solo had cupped his son's cheek. With his last moment he had seen past his murderer to bless his son.

She tried the first door she saw and pulled. It was unlocked, of course. They were on an island. Who was going to break in? The deer?

She accepted, reluctantly, that she could learn from him. That he offered her what no one else did. Twice he'd chased after her—no, three times; he'd wanted her even as a planet fell around them. She wasn't just one among many to him.

Why did he find her worthy when no one else had? Her own family had found her wanting. Why did this strange, powerful man see something in her? What called him to her?

What called them to each other?

She wandered through deserted rooms, each more beautiful than the last, until she came to a kitchen. On a long table was a plate of food, and she helped herself to it without hesitation. He was keeping her there; he had to feed her. She ate things she'd had a few times on D'Qar, other things she'd seen only in holos: cheeses, cured meats, olives. Rolls with a crisp exterior and tender crumb, which she dragged through salty butter.

Beside the plate was a goblet of wine, gleaming like a ruby, and she drank it thirstily. She'd walked all day without water except for a little she'd gathered at the stream; hands were less than satisfactory cups. She'd tried wine on D'Qar, but this was much better than what the Resistance drank. This slipped down her throat like silk and made her want to fill her cup again.

"Did you enjoy your tour of the island?"

She tensed and forced herself to finish chewing before she looked up.

He was standing at the end of the table, as if unsure of his welcome. But an amused smile toyed with his mouth, and she found it difficult to believe he was actually unsure.

He looked more confident than he ever had on Starkiller. There his face had been naked, vulnerable in every minute. Even when he'd been consumed by rage, he'd looked moments from tears. Here, in this palace, he'd shed whatever weakness had kept him a mere knight. Perhaps killing Snoke had freed him.

She stared at him, envying his assurance and wishing she had more food. And wine. As if in answer to her thought he placed a bowl of fruit in front of her and refilled her goblet, then settled down across from her.

She hadn't felt him in her mind. She looked at him sharply, but his expression was bland.

She grabbed a handful of small mauve berries from the bowl and tossed a couple in her mouth. They were squashy and very sweet. She reached out again and snagged a dark fruit with a papery peel of swirled deep reds and purples and pulled it apart, eager to taste its flesh.

But there was no flesh to taste, only a welter of small lumps.

She stared at it, uncomprehending, until Kylo reached over and dug his fingers into it. He pulled back with a handful of glistening bits, holding his hand out to show her. He plucked out one and popped it in his mouth, then a few more. He held out his hand to her.

She was tempted to ignore it. To ignore him. But she didn't think that would work, even if he weren't in front of her.

Ignoring him brought her nothing but dreams of him. Dreams she hadn't wanted to leave.

She met his eyes and reached out, dug out a few seeds, and placed them between her lips. She bit down and tart juice sprang over her tongue. It washed away the cloying sweetness of the berries.

It was dark and sharp, and she wanted more.

She didn't let herself reach for them. "Why do you want to teach me?"

"You're like a reactor. Throbbing with power. It would be a crime not to teach you."

The juice turned bitter in her mouth. "No, killing your father was a crime."

He drew back, his expression hardening for just a moment before smoothing out. "That was the past."

"It was just a few months ago," she shot back.

"It's in the past in more ways than you can understand."

She got back to business. "How long do you think you can keep me here?"

"Oh, I can keep you here as long as I want," he said casually, tossing one of the seeds into his mouth.

A chill ran down her spine. Before she could spit defiance he held up his hand.

"But I'm not interested in a prisoner. I want…"

"An apprentice," she supplied.

After a moment he inclined his head.

"Why is it so important to you?"

"Maybe I enjoy teaching."

"Don't," she warned.

He chuckled and shrugged.

"Well?"

"If you want to know more, you'll have to pull that out of my head."

"I did that once."

"I wasn't blocking you then. I think you'll find my defenses rather more robust now."

"So how long does this apprenticeship last?"

"It can go on indefinitely…"

"I mean, how soon can I leave?"

His eyes glittered. "I know what you meant." He stood, inclined his head towards the door. "Let me show you the gardens."

She ignored his invitation. "Let me go. Take me to a city and I'll find a way to get—" she paused, unsure of how to describe how she fit on D'Qar. "Home."

The label felt dishonest, but she had nothing else to call it. And no place else to call home.

"You're not going anywhere, Rey. Not yet. But soon enough that'll be up to you. I want you here because it's what you want, not because you're trapped."

She shook her head, desperate to persuade him. "If you want me here voluntarily, you're wasting your time."

His gaze was speculative. "I don't think I am. But right now you're just reacting. When you have a better idea of what I can teach you, what your life can be, I'll give you that choice. You might find you want different things then."

She chewed on her lip. "What are you trying to do? Make me a Sith like you?"

"I'm not Sith."

"Then what are you?"

To her surprise, sadness shadowed his face. "There isn't a word for what I am."

Despite herself, despite him, she opened her mouth. Before she could speak he held out his hand to her. "You'll want to see the gardens."

She rose slowly. Walking in a garden at sunset with Kylo Ren—the real Kylo Ren, not the devoted gallant her sleeping mind had created—should repel her. Instead it felt familiar, even welcome, and her lack of revulsion made her blood thrum with panic. She nodded at him and was relieved when he started for the door, assured of her compliance.

He didn't see her slip the knife into her sleeve.

* * *

Twilight on the lake was exquisite. A wash of pink and lavender dissolved over the mountains, and the water glittered gold.

"I've never seen a world with more gardens than Naboo. The planet is already so blessed by nature, but its people always want to draw it closer," Kylo said absently, fingering a branch of a flowering tree. Tiny white blossoms trailed down its length. "They love nature, yet they still want to declaw it. So they create gardens. They think if they temper the wilderness with civilization they can make it antiseptic. But it doesn't work. No matter how hard you try, nature will assert itself."

"It looks safe to me."

He pulled his hand from the branch and held it out to her. A spot of blood glistened on his forefinger, evidence of unseen thorns.

"There's danger in everything, Rey. No matter how innocuous something seems, it has its own kind of danger. The more obvious risk isn't always the most dangerous."

Was she mad? She must be. She had the urge to run her fingers along the flowers, regardless of risk. Their beauty called to her. She knew there were thorns; she'd never known anything without them. Usually there was no fairer side in compensation.

He raised his hand to his mouth and sucked off the blood, his full lips working along the tip of his long finger. His eyelids drifted shut, lashes inky against his pale cheeks. She felt the knife in her sleeve, the steel chill against her skin, but that wasn't why she shivered.

She forced her mind to her situation. Now. Now was the time to use the knife.

Yet still she watched him, and the knife remained undisturbed.

He led her from the garden onto a lawn bordering the lake, then stopped at the shore. "Do you want to leave? Really?"

She jerked her head in a nod, not trusting herself to speak.

"You're powerful in the Force, Rey. The strongest raw power I've ever seen. You'll learn quickly if you want to. You'll be able to do things you've never dreamed of."

She flinched, images from her dreams crowding her mind. She hadn't been the least bit concerned with power in her dreams.

Only him.

"I'm going to teach you. And if you want to leave—really leave—the way is simple." He raised one arm, reaching it out to the lake. His hand flexed, implored. Ordered.

The water began to shift, then boil. A shuttle broke the surface, water pouring off it. Kylo raised his hand further, and the ship rose above the water completely.

Rey gasped, taking an involuntary step forward. Then Kylo relaxed his arm, and the shuttle plunged back into the lake and slowly sank from view.

He turned back to her. "When you can raise that, you can leave." He gave her an unreadable glance and walked back to the house, leaving her in the faltering light.

She stayed by the lake as night overtook the sky. She cast her mind back to when she'd pushed into him months before, but found nothing useful. She thought of how she'd convinced the stormtrooper to release her shackles, and centered herself on that memory. She felt the Force spark inside her, and stretched her arm out and willed the shuttle to rise.

The water didn't even stir.


	3. Chapter 3

The sky was different, somehow. Instead of the canopy of D'Qar's forest she could see stars sparkling down at her, and there were three moons, not the single moon whose light barely touched the woodland floor.

But _he_ was unchanged, dark and alluring and reaching for her, always reaching. Even when she was awake he always reached for her, and in her dreams his longing was unhidden.

The light from the moons threw the strange, beautiful planes of his face into relief. She couldn't see his eyes, not yet, but knew his gaze was locked on her. What was in the sky didn't matter; she was his only star. Even in this foreign place the knowledge warmed her.

As she approached him she could see his eyes glittering, and she was glad, painfully glad, that these dreams had not left her. Her visions of Ahch-To had died after her failure with Luke Skywalker, but these twisted, exquisite moments with her enemy's shadow continued to sustain her. He was every path not walked, every temptation she'd ever resisted. In her dreams she didn't have to regret what couldn't be. She could have what she wanted and never think of the consequences.

Was he really her enemy? He'd taken her, stolen his way into her mind, fought her. Surely they were enemies.

But as she accepted his hand and he drew her close, she couldn't believe that. Her dreams couldn't lie that badly, surely.

He pushed her hair back, framing her face with his hands and stroking his thumbs against her cheeks. She shivered and he bent to her, brushing kisses against her brow, her cheeks. Her eyelids drifted down and she felt his lips whisper against them. His hands sifted through her hair, drugging her, and he murmured sweet promises against her skin. She buried her head against his chest, reveling in his adoration.

Finally he wrapped an arm around her and drew her down the path, stopping every time she admired a moon-drunk blossom to break it off and press it into her hands. A hypnotic sound lured them off the path, and a tangle of bushes and trees gave way to reveal a statue, a woman whose hair was caught up with flowers, tipping a vase from which water flowed. The sound it made as it joined the pool below was nothing like the trickle of water stintingly provided in the showers at Niima Outpost. It was everything she'd ever wanted, without end. As lovely as her dreams of D'Qar had been, and as much as she'd needed them, they paled next to this.

Mist from the fountain feathered against her face, and she sighed. Behind her Kylo laughed softly, pulling the flowers from her arms and scattering them in the water. As they drifted she exclaimed in pleasure, and he pulled her close. She let her head fall back against him, humming with contentment. She never wanted this dream to end.

* * *

This time when she awoke she knew exactly where she was: a prison disguised as a paradise, held by a murderer who wanted to shape her in his image.

Staring at the ceiling the night before, she had realized, stupidly, unforgivably late, that he knew the location of the Resistance base. Had he removed her in order to facilitate its conquest … or its destruction? Finn was there, and BB-8, and General Organa. Almost the entire Resistance. If the restored Empire had attacked the base on D'Qar, everything was over. There was no way the Resistance could have won against a surprise attack.

If Kylo had overrun the base, he likely had the coordinates to Luke Skywalker. Even now troopers might be flying to Ahch-To to complete Kylo Ren's triumph by wiping out the last of the Jedi.

And she'd been here, admiring the view and wondering if she should rejoin the Resistance when she got away. Staring at his mouth and trying not to think of her dreams.

She'd spent years ignoring things she hadn't wanted to know. Ignorance was her best friend. It allowed her to continue when any reasonable person would have given up. Ignorance and stubbornness were sins, she'd heard that somewhere.

They were the only things that had kept her going.

She pushed back the bedcovers and looked down at the shift she'd found draped across the bed the night before. This one was the palest peach silk, edged with a narrow green satin ribbon, like the stem of an exotic fruit. The tissue-thin fabric was caught at the waist with a cobweb of embroidery, each point crowned with a tiny rosebud.

She resented wearing it, and hated taking it off.

On the same chair where she had found yesterday's clothes was another neat stack. Today it was a pair of loose tan trousers and a long-sleeved pullover of finely woven ivory cloth. Utilitarian, and in complete contrast to the luxurious gown.

Guiltily she stroked the gown. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, the softest thing she'd ever touched. Surely no one on D'Qar or Jakku had ever worn anything so fine. It was of this place, this splendid villa surrounded by water and woods and gardens. It was a dream as fantastical as she'd ever had, yet she was awake.

She slipped on the day clothes and the buttery-soft boots from the day before and went into the fresher to attend to her needs. The night before she'd found it overly opulent, as foreign to her as a world of ice or oceans. The shower rained water from several angles; the bathtub she could likely stretch out in full length. And there was a couch. _A couch in a fresher._

She eyed the bathtub nervously as she cleaned her teeth. It was decadent. She didn't require such luxury. If she used it she might become accustomed to it, and she would miss it when she was back on D'Qar or Corellia or wherever she went after this. It was easier to go without if you'd never known excess in the first place. She knew that.

But she couldn't stop looking at it. Finally she gave up and forced herself to leave the bathroom.

It was tempting, all of it. But there was nothing she needed here.

Everything he offered was designed to tempt her. He'd reached into her mind, into her soul, and teased out every worn hope and half-realized desire and shaped them until they were fresh and perfect and glistening with dew and then presented them to her, and she could no more look away than she could stop breathing.

Why, when he had her helpless, was he showing her his hand instead of a blade? What did he hope to gain?

 _A willing apprentice_ , she told herself. That was the extent of his interest and his kindness both.

She remembered struggling to her senses back in the snow on Starkiller and seeing him ignore his lightsaber to strike Finn with his fist, as if the saber could not adequately express his anger. It was shocking, somehow more so than watching him slice Finn's back open. He was a man of impulses, not restraint.

So how long until his patience with her ended?

* * *

The house again seemed deserted as she walked downstairs, the only sounds made by her. For the second time she had the sensation of being the only one there, a passerby wandering through a ghost house.

In the kitchen there was again a bowl of fruit and a plate of cheeses and rolls, with little pots of jam and marmalade untouched beside it. This time some of the rolls were iced and had little pieces of fruit embedded in them. There was a goblet again, this time full of a translucent green juice that proved pleasantly tart when she took a sip. She pulled out her favorite fruits from the night before, including the mysterious reddish-purple globe with the little seeds.

The mauve berries were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Kylo Ren had eaten them all. She thought of him devouring them, the soft flesh giving way to his strong teeth, the juices flowing over his tongue, and flushed.

"Did you sleep well?"

Rey jerked around. He was standing in the doorway, straight and tall, the corners of his mouth curling up just a little. She fought the impulse to look away, and glared instead.

He sighed. "Are you finished with your breakfast?"

She nodded. The last few minutes she'd simply been tearing bread into little pieces.

He turned to leave, obviously expecting her to follow, but her words stopped him. "Did you attack them?"

He swung around. "The Resistance?"

She nodded, fearing the answer but needing to hear it.

A scowl passed over his face so quickly it was as if she'd imagined it. "No."

"Why didn't you?"

"There was no need."

She laughed once, humorlessly. "You've declared yourself emperor of an opposing power."

His face was shuttered now. "I got what I came for."

"It's headquarters for the Resistance. Why would you leave it intact?"

"I didn't want to risk drawing fire as we left." Her skepticism must have showed in her face; this time he barked out a laugh. "You always shoot first," he noted, his tone somewhere between admiration and disbelief. "Sometimes the most effective shot is the one you don't take."

"So what are you planning to do?"

"Train you."

"I mean about the base," she corrected impatiently.

"Right now my only plan is to train you. Perhaps you can be a good influence."

This time when he turned he didn't stop. She didn't move for a long moment, absorbing his words. She found it difficult to believe that he would be open to any kind of influence from her. He'd followed a monster for years and then taken over his place.

But he'd always been gentle with her, strangely so. Finn had described how Kylo Ren had carried her cradled in his arms; Poe had told her how roughly Kylo had interrogated him. Even before he'd realized she was Force-sensitive, he'd treated her with care. She didn't trust him, she couldn't.

Yet she couldn't dismiss his words.

She followed him into a small room she'd never seen before. The furniture was pushed to the sides of the room, and at the center of the floor were two woven mats. He curled his long body low to sit on the mat, then gestured to the other. After a moment she sat down opposite him.

"Are you telling the truth?"

His expression was calm, his voice even. "I've never lied to you, Rey."

She opened her mouth to ask another question, but before she could even formulate it, he reached into his pocket and produced one of the mauve berries that had been missing from breakfast. "You didn't like these, did you?"

She shook her head.

"Too sweet for you?" His eyes were avid, and she felt like he was talking about something else.

Rey nodded suspiciously.

"After years of bitterness it can be hard to accept sweetness."

She couldn't pull her gaze from his. She felt caught. "Do you like them?"

His mouth quirked. "No. They're squishy and sickening."

"So you don't like sweetness either."

His eyes gleamed. "I crave sweetness. But tahani berries are for children. My tastes are more complex."

"Then what are you doing with that?"

He reached out and placed the berry on the floor between them. "Move that."

She lifted her hand and felt it pushed back to the floor. Kylo hadn't budged.

"With the Force."

Rey bit her lip. Her first attempts at using the Force had been under tremendous strain. She'd heard of impossible things accomplished under great pressure, had done some of them herself—dragging herself through vast wrecks when she hadn't eaten in days, made drops of water last far longer than they should have when waiting out endless sandstorms—but this wasn't a life or death situation. She was sitting on the floor of a palace; the draperies looked to be spun gold. At breakfast she'd eaten until she could swallow no more, and her clothes were softer than anything that had ever passed through the bazaar at Niima, even on the back of the richest visitor.

She was being held by a man who'd once strapped her into an interrogation chair, yet her pulse was calm.

She'd tried to use the Force on D'Qar; it had been as if those times she'd channeled it on Starkiller had been someone else's memory. And right now it felt no closer than that, and this cruelly seductive island didn't feel like a threat, no matter what might be lurking.

Even the man sitting opposite her.

"Concentrate on it," Kylo said softly, his gaze on the berry. "Think about what you want it to do. There's nothing holding it where it is. The Force is more powerful than inertia. _Your will_ is more powerful. Let your will reach out … touch it … nudge it forward…"

She concentrated, her mind stretching out, attempting to feel the berry in a way her hand couldn't. She tried to remember the way she'd called Luke Skywalker's lightsaber to it, how she had drawn it past Kylo Ren, despite his years of training and immersion in the Force. She had known that she was supposed to have it, and she hadn't hesitated. The only hesitation had come once it was in her hand and she had to nudge herself to ignite the sword.

But calling it to her, that had been easy. She wanted it and it happened.

That experience taught her nothing useful, only that she could do things beyond her imagination. The knowledge, bare of application, taunted her.

She dug back further, to the interrogation chamber. She recalled the feel of Kylo's mind brushing against hers, then pushing inside, making a place for itself among her thoughts and memories. He had no right; shoving him out had been instinctive, just like calling the saber to her. Even pushing into his mind had been easy, an extension of forcing him out of hers. Push-pull, their wills abutting, entwining, then deflecting, just like when they fought in the snow.

There: The stormtrooper who'd released her. She'd had to fight for that, her talent lying dormant without Kylo's spark igniting it. She remembered the false starts, the fumbling attempts to gather the threads of the Force, the chilly, remote certainty when she channeled it. She felt, now, for those traces, felt them slip over her, past her. She could sense them swirling around Kylo Ren, like he was a magnet and she had nothing to offer. She reached out, tried to draw them close, but they slipped from her grasp.

She needed that emotion, the nudge that allowed access to the Force. Fear, panic, anger, she couldn't access the Force without them. And here, in paradise, she was strangely complacent. Where was her rage? Her disdain, her disgust? She dredged inside herself and found nothing to motivate the Force.

She reached again, harrowing down inside her and striking out with her will, but the berry didn't even wobble. Everything she had, and it didn't move.

She ground her teeth. "Maybe Snoke wasn't a good teacher," she protested very reasonably.

"I studied for years under Luke Skywalker, Rey. And whatever else his faults, his methods work. Seeing me grow powerful under his tutelage only led Snoke to intensify his attempts to win me over."

She recoiled. "You knew him when you were training with Luke Skywalker?"

He laughed softly, the faintest trace of bitterness coloring its edges. "I've always known him. He was there my entire life, telling me things I didn't want to hear, things I didn't want to believe. Some of them were plausible, but I refused to believe them. Some of them were preposterous, and I mocked their ridiculousness. They were all true, of course. It's clear to me now, but he must have wanted me very badly to have tolerated such insolence."

"What did he say?" she asked thoughtlessly, then cursed her mouth its freedom. She didn't want to know.

He didn't answer, his eyes gazing off, unfocused. "I almost envy you, not feeling the Force until you were an adult. The dark side has been there my entire life, pressing against me. When I did things that made my mother unhappy, she told me to ignore those impulses. That everyone had them and it was part of growing up to learn to disregard them. And when they were so strong that they threatened to strangle me, she sent me away. Instead of having the comfort of my mother I was consigned to a temple filled with strangers, where I was just one among many."

"What was the training like?"

A smile ghosted over his face. "It was exactly like what you're doing. Except I tried harder. I thought if I applied myself, my mother would see how hard I was trying and take me back. She'd see I really wanted to make her happy. I didn't care about growing strong in the Force. I wanted my family."

For a moment tears stung her eyes, so sharp she bit back a cry. His childhood was a perverse reflection of her own, gilded with power and renown but marked by abandonment and longing.

 _You're so lonely_.

 _I feel it too._

"But she didn't."

"No. That's something we have in common. Our families never intended to bring us home."

Her shoulders tensed. "You don't know that." She couldn't believe it. Something had to have happened to them. She hadn't waited all those years over a lie.

He bowed his head and let the point pass. "My parents didn't, at least. I only saw them a couple more times in person, short visits when they were passing by. They could rest assured that Luke Skywalker was maintaining the fiction they'd told me. It was the worst place I could be, really. The dark side will always be a part of me … and Luke told me I was wrong for feeling it, and tried to excise it. It wasn't something I chose, and it's not something I can live without. And when the truth came out, I realized that they knew, and had lied anyway. They lied, knowing it was tearing me apart to deny a part of myself."

"What truth?"

"About my grandfather."

She frowned, not understanding.

"You've heard of Darth Vader?"

Of course she'd heard of Darth Vader, the most notorious Sith lord in history. A man whose power and cruelty was the stuff of legends.

"He's my grandfather."

The world seemed to shift. How was that possible? She knew he had to mean through General Organa, but she couldn't imagine Leia being the daughter of Darth Vader. And Luke Skywalker, the great hero of the Rebellion? Hadn't he _killed_ Darth Vader?

Now Luke Skywalker was a hermit, mortifying himself at the end of the galaxy, as if in repentance. She turned it over in her mind again and again, and it came into focus, unbearably ugly. "They never told you."

"No. I found out shortly after most of the galaxy did. A political opponent of my mother's released the information. I was at the temple on Gallus, meditating, when a group of older padawans entered. Their families had been contacting them in a panic, horrified at them being trained by the spawn of Darth Vader. But Luke was off-world, so they came to me. And they were out for blood. If Luke had been there, things probably would have been different. He's always had a gift for calming people. That's not something I share."

She felt queasy. She didn't want to ask, but she had to know. "What did—what did you do?"

"I didn't even realize it was real, what was happening. I thought I must be dreaming it. Then this padawan, one who'd been there even longer than me, threw a rock at me, screaming about how I had tried to draw him to the dark side. Accusing me of hitting him harder than necessary in practice, of trying to kill him if I couldn't convert him. It was like he'd gone insane."

"What about the others?"

"They were confused. Enraged. Then one of them…."

"What?"

"One of them turned on his lightsaber. Then another, and another."

"What did you do?"

He was silent for a long time, and when he spoke his voice shook. "I've never seen virtue in sacrifice."

"You mean you…?"

His eyes were unapologetic. "I did what they _made_ me do. And then I left."

"And went to Snoke."

"No, not at first. I tried to get away from everything and everyone. I put all my effort in hiding my Force signature, because I didn't want him or Luke inside my head, talking at me. I just wanted quiet. To not exist. But one night I started drinking and didn't stop, and there he was, inside my brain. Reassuring me. Telling me I was wanted and respected. That I didn't deserve how I'd been treated."

"But Snoke would be good to you?"

Kylo's lip curled. "So he said. And I was still so hurt and stunned that I couldn't see the truth. In reality he was offering his own kind of lie. My mother and Luke had hoped to destroy the dark in me. Snoke hoped to extinguish the light. He told me my agony would end if I killed Han Solo. That cutting that tie with my old life would finally heal me, like cutting out a tumor. Family who didn't want me, teachers who didn't trust me. But it didn't. I put my lightsaber through my father, and afterwards things did become clear. Snoke wanted to cripple me as surely as my mother and Luke had. He wanted to dig all remnants of the light from me and didn't care if he rendered me half a man in its absence. That's when I knew the only way I could be whole was to embrace both halves. I'm light and dark, Rey. They're both in me. And they're both in you. They're beautiful. Embrace them both and you'll be whole."

"And if I don't want to embrace the dark?"

"Then you're rejecting a part of you, something that's deep inside. The dark side is only a source of your power. It doesn't make you evil any more than the light side makes you good. The Jedi did too many cruel things to still believe that lie."

She dipped her head, hiding her expression from him. It sounded wrong to her.

But Luke Skywalker, radiant with light and content to do nothing to help the galaxy, returned to her mind.

"How quickly did you learn to move a berry? Or a rock, or whatever you used?"

He shook his head. "I was too young to remember."

"But you remember going to train with Luke?"

"I could do little things before that."

"Just on your own?"

"I taught myself, or Snoke taught me. I don't really remember."

She recoiled. "You can't _remember_? You can't tell the difference between what you did and what he did?"

His shoulders hunched, a return to an old habit. "It was a long time ago. It's something I've been doing all my life. I don't remember the first time I used the Force any more than I remember my first step. They're the same thing to me. It's as much a part of me as breathing."

"He's inside you," she whispered. She was repelled, but also … outraged? A monster had preyed on him when he was too young to fight or even be aware of what was happening. It had seemed normal to him. What had Han Solo and General Organa been doing while an evil creature had been insinuating itself into their child's mind?

"He's nothing anymore," Kylo returned sharply. "I've exorcised his influence. Only his knowledge remains."

"He can't have been inside you for that long without leaving a mark."

He laughed shortly. "Everything leaves a mark. You live long enough, you're covered in them. You grow strong enough, the marks stop hurting."

"How do you grow strong?"

He nodded at the object between them and closed his eyes. "Move the berry."

Was that his answer? She tried again, and this time she barely even felt the Force around her. She opened her eyes, frustrated. "Stop that."

His eyes remained shut. "What?"

"You're stopping me. You're controlling the Force."

Now he opened his eyes. "That's like saying I'm breathing your air. I'm _always_ controlling the Force. That has nothing to do with what _you_ do with it. It doesn't respond to only one person at a time, it's endless. Do you think the Jedi used to take turns using it, back when there were thousands of them? Focus. Feel your power. It will bend to your desires. It will reach beyond your body, beyond the physical, and shape the galaxy. This berry is _nothing._ It's insignificant next to you. You, who escaped her chains in the First Order's greatest stronghold. You, who defeated the master of the Knights of Ren the first time you held a lightsaber. Don't allow your senses to lie to you. This is easy."

Another failed attempt. "I can't."

"You pushed me out of your mind. You commanded a stormtrooper to release you. You called a lightsaber— _my_ lightsaber—to you when I couldn't. You pulled the knowledge of how to defeat me straight out of my head. I assure you, Rey, you _can_ do this. You were born to do this. Before the Force awoke in you, you were incubating. Now you're alive. _Move it."_

Before she even shut her eyes she could feel the Force rushing over her, thick now, almost tangible, and tried to grasp it. It slipped away from her, past her, and she reached out to him instead and pushed forward, just like she had on Starkiller. Then she had seen light and dark pulsing inside him, ambition and grief, anger and self-loathing.

Now she was batted back before an image could form.

"No, Rey. This time you'll have to earn your knowledge."

She leapt up, her fists clenched. "That's enough. This is pointless."

Kylo rose gracefully, his warrior's body well trained. "This is how you learn. Growth can be slow and it can be painful, Rey, but it _is_ growth."

She shook her head. He was lying, he had to be. He was blocking her, or blocking the Force, or tricking her somehow. Or else what she did on Starkiller had been an anomaly, something she somehow stole from him and that died when the planet had. And so he had given her a goal she couldn't reach, no matter what she did. "There's got to be another way off the island," she insisted.

He looked disappointed. "You want to leave that badly?"

She nodded. _Of course_.

He stared at her a long moment, then shrugged.

"Fine. Take off your clothes."


	4. Chapter 4

At first all Rey was aware of was the roaring in her ears. She shook her head, trying to understand his words, which made no sense. It did not—he could not—

 _You can't be surprised. You're not surprised. The way he looks at you, has always looked at you, even back in the frozen forests of Starkiller. It's the same way he looks at you in his dreams, only it's real._

Yet somehow she never thought he'd—address it? Admit it?

No, that wasn't it: She never thought he'd demean her. He'd kidnapped her, interrogated her, slashed at her with a lightsaber, but despite the way he sneered _scavenger_ , he'd always treated her as an equal. Not like he believed her body was something to be bartered.

Equal parts rage and grief flared. She was closer to Jakku than she'd thought. It didn't matter where she went or what she did; she was just there to be used for what she could do—or what she let others do.

 _No._ The purloined blade strapped to her arm was suddenly heavy, and she could almost feel her hand flexing in anticipation. The throat was vulnerable—the eyes—the kidneys were always good—

"You can raise the shuttle or you can swim to the mainland. You _can_ swim, of course?"

It took a second for the words to sink in. Then for a moment—just a moment—her eyes stung and she was glad, desperately, pathetically glad she was wrong.

She looked away. There was nothing she could pretend to be interested in; it was just a wall, swirling marble like the others. She stared at the whorls and drifts of the pattern and fought for composure.

 _Damn him._

Her relief was safely hidden when she turned back. "I grew up in a desert. Of course I can't swim."

His expression was a bland, damn him. "Then I suggest you try again."

She looked down at the berry and before she could even form a thought it shot across the floor. It slammed into the wall, glistening pulp flecking the floor. Again Rey was shaken: She hadn't even tried. She'd merely looked down with intent, and it happened.

She raised her head to look at Kylo. He wasn't smiling, but she could feel his pleasure.

"I don't know why you think you hate the dark side, Rey," he said, eyes gleaming. "It's the side of the Force you instinctively use, every time."

"Is that why you said it? So I'd get angry?"

"The dark side doesn't only use anger. All emotion fuels it. Joy, sadness, pleasure. Relief."

That didn't make sense. "But there's nothing bad about those emotions."

He shook his head. "There's nothing bad about _any_ emotions. If you're human you feel them all. The Jedi didn't want to be human, so they decreed emotions taboo. They wanted to be superior beings. I've only ever wanted to be a man."

Rey bit her lip. That wasn't—surely that wasn't right. Luke Skywalker, the last Jedi, was a great hero. A great man.

A great man who'd ignored his sister's pleas and Rey's own urging in favor of remaining remote and completely untouchable. For all she knew, he'd relocated to another planet after she left, to ensure he was never bothered again.

Kylo Ren was surprising her. "But you're not just dark?"

"No. Today we'll also be doing some meditations the Jedi favored for achieving control of their emotions and surrendering to the Force rather than harnessing it. Proficiency at both techniques will allow you true mastery of the Force."

She canted her head. "But you wanted to start with the dark side."

He shrugged. "It's easier to reach the dark side. It's been a long time since Starkiller. Training can be slow; at times you'll doubt yourself. I wanted you to have a reminder of how powerful you are."

She thought of how she'd made the berry move, of how she'd called the lightsaber to her. Of how she'd sunk into his mind and pulled out knowledge and fear and things she'd spent months trying not to remember.

 _I'll take her to Beshere, or to Otakus. We'll be together and I'll train her, and I'll cover our tracks so well no one will ever find us—_

She shook her head, and the stolen thought sank into the past.

"Come."

Rey jerked back to the present and realized Kylo had moved to a glass-paned door leading to the grounds. He held out his hand, beckoning her. "Come. We'll do our meditations in the garden. Nature can be very conducive to reaching a peaceful state. The lapping of the water and the droning of the insects can be quite hypnotic."

At the thought of the garden her eyes lit up, and she started across the room, hand reaching for his, before she realized what she was doing and dropped her arm. It was the dreams, she told herself, unnerved. She was so used to him reaching for her, and her welcoming it, that she hadn't even thought, just responded.

Apparently even the loveliest dreams could be dangerous.

She thought he chuckled under his breath, but he turned away and started across the lawn before she could see his face. After a moment she followed him, trailing him down paths and beneath branches. Together they knelt on the grass, sheltered under a tree with wide-reaching arms. Kylo's eyelids slid down and he bowed his head, and already she could feel the Force pulsing through him, radiant and unmistakable. Despite what he'd said, she'd thought he was completely dark, but she was wrong. He was slipping into the light side with the ease of one who knew it intimately.

She shut her eyes and dipped her head, but didn't feel the Force overtake her. "What do I do?"

"Nothing." His voice was deep and mellow, and she shivered a little.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't try to reach it. Don't even think. Just drift. Surrender and allow the Force to fill you."

Thinking of nothing went against everything Rey had learned on Jakku. Always she had forced herself to focus: If she had lost sight of her goals, she would have slipped away like so many others in that hopeless place, fallen to desert wolves or sloppy rationing or poorly chosen salvage. If she hadn't kept a thousand details in mind every day, at every moment, she would have been lost. There would have been nothing left of her by the time Finn and Poe had crashed onto the planet. She would have been dead, or a shadow in the outpost's brothel. It would only have taken a moment's carelessness to undermine everything she'd struggled towards for years. It would have been gone in the blink of an eye.

On D'Qar, she'd floated. For the first time she hadn't been focused; she'd been unmoored, without purpose. She reached for that feeling, but instead of the Force, she felt the sense of loss and confusion she'd known with the Resistance.

Something touched her hands, and she started, but didn't open her eyes. She knew, despite Kylo's warning the day before, that nothing here would hurt her.

And she knew the hands covering hers, turning them over to engulf them, were his, and she knew that of all the things on this world, of all the people in the galaxy, she had less to fear from him than any. He began to rub his thumbs across her palms, soothingly, and the uncertainty she'd known on D'Qar slipped away. She could feel their breathing find a common rhythm, and together they sank into the light.

* * *

When Rey opened her eyes the sun was brilliant overhead, piercing the leaves above them. There was perspiration on her brow, and she became aware of the stiffness of her limbs. She must not have moved in hours.

Kylo's thumbs stopped their slow circuit of her palms. She bit her lip to stop her protest as he released her hands.

His eyes, when he opened them, were slumberous and peaceful. And she—she felt the same. She didn't feel the sudden, sharp flush of power she'd experienced through the dark side, but instead like she'd joined into something that had its own flow. Even now she felt soporific, as if she should just relax back into it and let it take her over.

He stood up. "Do you want lunch?"

Yes. Yes, she wanted lunch. She always wanted lunch, or whatever other meal was offered. She knew that sometimes people voluntarily skipped meals, but she ate them even when she wasn't hungry. Maybe someday she'd be comfortable willlingly skipping meals.

When that happened, she'd know she finally left Jakku behind her.

She trailed him to the kitchen. The fruit and cheese and rolls from breakfast were still on the table, as were as her empty plate and goblet. The impeccably discreet servants hadn't laid anything out for lunch, so apparently they were just going to have more fruit and bread. After a lifetime of portions, she didn't turn her nose up at fresh food; she could live on fruit forever. And cheese was _amazing_.

Before she could reach for a piece, Kylo whisked the plate away. "But—"

"Cheese can't stay out that long. It requires refrigeration."

She felt a prickle of apprehension at the thought of how the servant who'd failed in their duties would be reprimanded.

"You're not going to—" Rey broke off as he turned around, a platter in his hand. He placed it on the table, and she stared at it.

"What?"

On the platter was a pale yellow cake flecked with red and green. He'd taken it from a cabinet or something, as if he'd known it was there. As if he didn't expect to be waited on. "What's that?"

"Moilar. Eggs and vegetables and cheese. You need protein." He sliced a fat wedge, slid it onto a plate, and handed it to her before serving himself a slice.

She nudged it with her fork. It wobbled.

He didn't seem offput by the texture, and wolfed it down.

Finally she took a little bite, and was relieved to find it tasted like the scrambled eggs they served on D'Qar, only better. She took a big bite and savored it, then gobbled it down before it disappeared. "This is good," she mumbled, reaching out to slice off another piece.

"I'll make it again tomorrow, then."

That jerked Rey's head up from her plate.

"What?"

He shrugged. "You can't have fruit every meal."

"You cook?"

Those dark eyes studied her, as if weighing the effect of his words. "I knew we were going to be here for a while. I try to be prepared."

"What about your servants?"

His eyes narrowed. "What servants?"

"The ones who make up my bed—hang up my towels—put out my clothes—"

"That's me."

She stared at him, wordless. Again he had shocked her. "And the cleaning?"

"I take care of the dishes. Microdroids take care of the rest. They're programmed to clean when a room is vacant, so I doubt you'll see them."

This whole house—all this space—and there was no one else but them.

She wondered if she should be disturbed, but dismissed the thought as soon as it arose. The place could have been filled with stormtroopers and it wouldn't have made a difference. This was between the two of them, no matter who else was there.

It struck her, suddenly, that she hadn't even glanced at most of the villa, and a dart of excitement shot through her. Instead of picked-over warships, she had an entire palace to explore, every nook and cranny filled with things she'd never seen before. She'd scavenged because she had no choice, but she'd enjoyed the discoveries, particularly when she'd found treasures in unexpected places.

Here there was treasure everywhere, all of it new and exotic. This wasn't flotsam from a wrecked fighter, it was an Imperial liner she was welcomed to peruse at her leisure.

 _Leisure_. The word felt strange in her mind. She'd never had leisure, ever. All her life she'd worked desperately, barely managing to stay ahead of starvation. Even on D'Qar she'd worked tirelessly, unreasonably fearful of not pulling her weight. The stolen moments in the forest had been the only times she'd relaxed, and they were so dear she'd been willing to trade a meal for more.

Kylo's voice drew her out of her reverie. "I have some work to do. You can rest or read or walk in the garden if you want. Later we'll have our first swimming lesson."

"Why wait?"

He opened his mouth to respond, then shut it abruptly.

"What?"

He hesitated. She stared at him in fascination; it was the first time she'd seen him doubt himself since she'd arrived. She kept her mouth shut, a technique she'd learned when bargaining in Jakku. People often would rush to fill a silence, even if it was better for them to remain quiet.

"Some people think you shouldn't swim after eating."

"'Some people?'"

His mouth worked a bit before flattening into a line. "It was something I heard as a boy."

Rey froze, the hint of merriment gone. It was something he'd heard from his parents. That was why he was uncomfortable. His guilt, the guilt that should cover him like raiment, had finally made itself felt.

She should have been satisfied. Why was she so perverse? Han Solo had befriended her, offered to mentor her. Had accompanied Finn to get her from Starkiller. And Leia, with so much loss in her eyes, bearing the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders, trying to protect it from her own son.

But she couldn't stop thinking of the little boy on Gallus, left by parents who never returned for him, trying to be good so they'd take him back, even as a monster was slavering over him. Lied to his entire life, told to ignore his own nature.

Han had come back for her. He'd come back for her, but he'd waited years before coming back for his son.

Her chest ached, and this time she realized it wasn't outrage she felt, but compassion. A thrill of empathy rippled through her, like calling to like, but she tamped it down. They were different, very different. He was night to her day.

Yet she recalled how easily she had harnessed the dark side, and knew she wasn't all light.

Maybe she wasn't the sun. But could she be the moon to his night?

* * *

The first place she went to explore was her room. No: It was not her room. It was the room she was staying in while she learned from Kylo. And after she learned what she needed to, she'd find herself a real home. It might not be as beautiful as this—the walls might not be marble, and the furniture might not be burnished like a mirrored luster—but it would be hers.

She started with the tall bureau across from the bed. Plants covered the top of it, flowing over the sides. Rey pulled open the top drawer and found neatly folded silk and chiffon and gauze, whites and pastels, all delicate and exquisite beyond measure: Nightgowns. Kylo Ren had opened this drawer the night before, run his big hands across the fragile garments, and chosen one for her. She knew, knew with everything in her, that he hadn't just grabbed one. He'd selected it and laid it out across the bed with care. He'd imagined her wearing it.

She shuddered, and couldn't lie to herself about why.

In other drawers she found more clothes like the ones she was wearing, practical and comfortable. In one she found undergarments, panties and camisoles almost more ethereal than the nightgowns.

In another drawer she found, to her shock, several replicas of her clothes from Jakku, the ones she'd been wearing the first time they met. Coiled atop each set was a pair of wrap sleeves. The uniform of a desert rat, provided by a king. They were finer than her own, of course, the fabric soft, the edges unfrayed, but clearly intended to supply familiarity in a strange place.

More than ever she wondered about Kylo Ren. This man who was neither Jedi nor Sith, who'd seized her but treated her respectfully, who'd longed to return to his parents yet killed his father. Who led an empire in opposition to the group she'd lived with yet left them intact because … because it wasn't his objective at the time? Because he hadn't wanted to risk attracting fire?

Because somewhere inside him, he didn't want to hurt his mother further?

He wasn't what she'd expected, seeking to ease her fears rather than bend her to his whims. Other than kidnapping her, of course.

But she couldn't lie and say she'd been happy on D'Qar. She'd ended up there by chance, like every other place in her life. She drifted like seed and took root nowhere. The only difference was this time the wind that took her wasn't random.

Beside the bureau was a door she hadn't opened. Of course, she'd hardly opened any doors in the villa. Each room held unimaginable possibilities.

This room held clothes.

The dresser had delicate nightwear and practical garb for meditating. This room—a vast closet—was lined with hangers displaying cloaks, robes, dresses, skirts, blouses, all lovely. Beneath were racks of shoes, sturdy boots, delicate slippers, elegant heels, in all different colors. She ran her fingers over the soft clothes and tried not to allow the excitement to overtake her; it was impossible to believe these things were for her. She could put them on, wear them every day. She wouldn't have to sell them for food, and no one would take them from her.

Occasionally in wrecks she'd find a holo that included pictures of women in beautiful clothing. She'd pored over them as she had everything she'd found; they were sustenance of a kind that couldn't be found at Niima Outpost. On D'Qar she'd found a couple of fashion magazines, actual paper magazines. Jessika Pava had told Rey that it made her sad to look at things she'd never have, but if Rey had felt that way she'd never have looked at anything. She'd never imagined she would have such things.

At the far end of the closet, beyond all the things she could ever want to wear, there was another door.

Rey's hand hovered over the knob. She was almost afraid to open it; the closet was magical, beyond dreams. If she left the door unopened, the spell would remain intact.

Even as she thought it, she pushed the door open. After so many years, scavenging was her first instinct. She would take the risk along with the reward.

This room was even larger than the closet, almost as large as her bedroom. Like her bedroom, it had large windows, and she could see a balcony as well. The smallest wall, opposite the door, was mirrored.

This room was filled with cabinets.

Each cabinet was taller than she was. They were of dark wood, the surfaces ornately carved. She moved to the first one, unlatched the door, and gasped.

Inside was a beautiful dress fitted to a form. The gown was the pink of the earliest morning—or latest afternoon. Arrayed across the gown in profusion were flowers of a darker pink.

She touched the gown before she could stop herself, feeling the delicate blossoms, the weight of the skirt. Tears prickled in her eyes.

It was several moments before she began breathing again. It was impossible. She was imagining it. She couldn't bear to wake from this dream.

Still, she moved to the next cabinet.

The gown in the second cabinet was black, with a high neck and long full sleeves gathered at the wrists. It was sensuous and dream-like, the wispy floating overdress embroidered with gold fronds.

The third cabinet held a blue gown. The top layer was gauzy, almost like a mist, and heavily encrusted with gold. Beneath it was a slightly darker fabric, impossibly soft. It was made for a princess. It was from fairyland.

From cabinet to cabinet she went, finding in each a gown more beautiful than the one before it. Some were gilded and spangled, others spare and serene. The fabrics were richer than anything she'd ever known, even if she had to guess at the names. Silk? Satin? Chiffon? She didn't know. She only knew they were more splendid even than anything her imagination could conjure.

They were not left by the woman who'd had this room before her. They were hers, she knew that. They had been made for her, and would never be worn by anyone else.

Kylo Ren had done this for her.

Her, a scavenger.

Kylo Ren had these dresses made for the same reason he'd brought her here, to this exquisite, nature-touched place: Because he'd wanted to please her.

Her head went light, and she couldn't think, couldn't breathe.

Rey stumbled onto the balcony and gripped the railing, much as she had the day before, allowing the sounds of the songbirds and the perfume of the air to relax her enough to breathe. The view from this balcony was different from the one in her room, the water partially obscured by trees, but it had a sweeping view of the gardens. From here she could see a gazebo, and what looked like a maze. In the distance something glittered, and she focused on it.

Then everything she'd been thinking—everything she'd been trying not to think—fell from her mind, and she ran.

She raced through the closets, through her bedroom, down the stairs. She was through the living room and the kitchen and rooms she didn't know the names of, then she was outside, running through the garden, past bushes and trees, and there it was, a pool. And at its center—

At its center was a statue of a woman with flowers in her hair, tipping a vase from which water flowed.

Just like her dream.


	5. Chapter 5

_A tangle of bushes and trees gave way to reveal a statue, a woman whose hair was caught up with flowers, tipping a vase from which water flowed. The sound it made as it joined the pool below was nothing like the trickle of water stintingly provided in the showers at Niima Outpost. It was everything she'd ever wanted, without end. As lovely as her dreams of D'Qar had been, and as much as she'd needed them, they paled next to this._

 _Mist from the fountain feathered against her face, and she sighed. Behind her Kylo laughed softly, pulling the flowers from her arms and scattering them in the water. As they drifted she exclaimed in pleasure, and he pulled her close. She let her head fall back against him, humming with contentment. She never wanted this dream to end._

Rey reached down to touch a flower as it drifted by, and the chill of the water drew her back to the present with a jolt. It was not night, and Kylo was not with her.

And it hadn't been a dream.

She didn't know how long she stood at the fountain, watching the water swirl and eddy. It might have been hours. It was only the sound of footsteps behind her that returned her to the moment.

"Are you ready to—"

Rey turned around to face Kylo, and he broke off. "What's wrong?" he asked, voice taut.

"We were here last night. And you dropped those flowers into the fountain."

He frowned, uncomprehending. "Yes…"

"And on D'Qar, we walked in the forest."

"Yes?"

"And they weren't dreams. None of them were dreams."

His shook his head, uncomprehending. "You thought they were _dreams?_ Are you joking?"

"No, I'm not _joking!"_

He laughed bitterly, hurt and anger warring on his face. "Well, that explains why you were so sweet with me at night and so sharp during the day. You wanted it not to be true so much you told yourself it wasn't real. Yet you kept meeting me. Kept coming out, night after night, into my arms." He looked away, breathing hard. When he turned back his expression was flinty. "How did you explain away the mud on your shoes? The dampness on your hem?"

For a moment her vision went fuzzy.

She had no idea.

She'd gone out night after night, met him, embraced him, let him kiss her. Lived for those nights. And wanted them to continue enough that she'd ignored the evidence staring her in the face.

No. No, it was him, he'd done something. There was no way she'd gone willingly. "What did you do?" she demanded, voice raw.

He stared at her, uncomprehending.

"What did you _do?"_ she repeated, voice rising to a shout.

"What do you mean, _What did I do?"_

"You used the Force on me—tricked me—"

"Ridiculous," he spat, face turning splotchy. "I did _nothing._ I felt your misery through the Force and I came to you. And you must have felt me too, because you met me before I was halfway through the woods."

"Did you—did you take advantage of me?"

His face twisted with disbelief. "I did not _take advantage_ of you!"

She shook her head, disgusted. "How can I believe you?"

His eyes blackened and he grabbed the back of her neck, looming over her. " _If I'd been inside you, you'd remember it_ ," he grated.

She knocked his hand away and shoved him back. "Stay away from me," she warned.

"Are you going to use that knife you've been hiding?"

She couldn't smother her gasp, and he barked a laugh. "You think I didn't know the moment you took it?"

Rey shook her head. She couldn't answer. She had no answer.

Kylo studied her, as if trying not to spook her. She could _see_ him working through how to approach her.

Finally he spoke. "I didn't know you thought they were dreams. But it doesn't change anything. Not really. If this isn't important to you, why would you dream about us every night?"

Her voice was thin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to yourself—it's always been there. Back on Takodana I could have just taken the droid. Nobody understood why I didn't. We could have had Skywalker's location immediately. But I saw you, and I didn't care about Skywalker anymore."

"You strapped me into an interrogation chair—questioned me—"

His expression softened. "I took off my mask for you, because I wanted you to see me. I hadn't wanted anyone to see me since the first time I put that mask on. And then I pushed into you. And you—you pushed right back into me."

She began panting a little, and realized he was as well.

"Rey, my Rey. Why does a man destroy everything he's worked for? Burn every bridge, destroy every opportunity? There's only one reason."

"No—"

"I hate everything you look at that isn't me. I'm jealous of the air that you breathe, because it's inside you and I'm not."

She shut her eyes, allowed the realization to overwhelm her. "You never just wanted to train me."

"No."

She opened her eyes. "And when I can raise the shuttle you're just going to let me go?" she mocked.

"I said I would, and I will," he said through gritted teeth.

"I don't believe you."

"I have _never_ lied to you," he insisted.

She snorted in derision. "Is that everything? _Is it_?"

This time he took a step back of his own accord, his expression wavering and losing its fervor.

He looked guilty as hell.

"What is it?" He didn't respond. She shoved him again. "Tell me!" He shook his head. His skin was pasty, as if he were ill. She didn't care.

" _Tell me!"_ she screamed. He kept shaking his head, and in fury she tried to force her way into his mind to find out the truth for herself.

He slapped back her artless attempt as if it were nothing.

Now she was the one shaking her head, betrayed, hurt. All this, everything she'd started to believe despite herself. That he cared about her. Maybe more than cared. And the whole time he was hiding something. She didn't know who disgusted her more.

Rey turned and fled, through the garden and the house, all the way back to her room. A room with a lock, to keep him out.

Kylo called after her, but she ignored him. By the time she was at her door she could hear things smashing in the kitchen. Curses rent the air, and she slammed the door, shutting them, and him, out.

* * *

It was hours later that the knock at her door came.

She supposed she should be impressed he didn't try the knob first. It was locked, of course. But he was huge, and he wielded the Force. She couldn't keep him out if he really wanted in.

But he knocked. An atypical gesture from a man who'd done nothing to her but steal and lie.

Let him knock. Let him _rot._

"I have food for you, Rey. Please eat."

She ignored him.

"I know you want to eat."

She wasn't sure whether it was more effective or less to bribe a scavenger with food. There were times she would have done almost anything for food, and she felt like she could never have enough. But that deprivation had also shown her just how long she could do without.

"Please, Rey, open the door." His voice was a low and a little thick, and it tugged at her.

"I'll tell you everything. Just open the door."

She jerked the door open and he jumped back a little, as if not expecting his entreaties to work. He held out a plate covered with a napkin, and she ignored it. Finally he bent awkwardly and nudged it past her leg to put it on the floor just inside the door. She knew that was so she'd have something to eat after the next time she slammed the door, and that only made her angrier. _Damn him. Damn him for making everything so difficult._

"Well?" Rey spat.

"You're strong with the Force. Unbelievably strong. I tried to protect you. That's all I wanted to do. If Snoke had gotten his hands on you—I know you think I'm a monster. I'm nothing, Rey. Next to him I'm nothing. All I wanted was to shield you from him."

She ground her teeth. This wasn't worth opening the door for. "Snoke wasn't there when we fought. He wasn't there when you strapped me into the interrogation chair. That was you."

"I'm not talking about then, Rey."

"What, then, after? Am I supposed to believe that you killed him to protect me?"

His face darkened. "I _lied_ to protect you, and I did it for years. To keep you from becoming like me."

Rey's limbs went numb, and she grasped at the door frame. "What do you mean?" she whispered.

"Like I said, you're strong with the Force. I've known since the moment I first saw you—"

"On Takodana—"

"—on Jakku."

Rey's hand tightened on the frame as her mind raced through the implications. "My family—do you know my family? Are you why they abandoned me?" she demanded, her voice rising.

"No. All I know is you were left to rot on that hellscape, and you were powerful enough that Snoke would take an interest in you. So I made sure he never heard about you."

Rey's voice was strangled. "Tell me."

"It was five years ago. I'd been training with Snoke for a year or so. By the time I joined him I never wanted to see my family again, and I doubted they'd ever want to see me. By the time my initial training was finished I was too ashamed and disgusted to ever attempt to return home. Snoke had me in a death grip, and he knew it. So that's when my missions started."

"Missions?"

"He sent me out to search for more like me. Like us. He wanted every Force-user in the galaxy to be his. He'd lived in the shadows for centuries, and he liked the idea of dominating everything he'd once hidden from."

"So you came to Jakku looking for people like me."

"No, it was just a fuel stop. I'd sent feelers through Tuanul, and I knew there were no Force-sensitives there. I assumed they would have found and taken in any on the planet. Plainly I overestimated their competence."

She shook her head numbly. Tuanul was on the other side of the planet from Niima Outpost. She didn't know anything about it, and she didn't care.

"I walked through the marketplace at Niima while my shuttle was being refueled. It was typical of the dying Inner Rim worlds the Republic ignored. They didn't care if Hutts ran slaves or children starved, so long as they had the trappings of democracy and could congratulate each other on how superior they were. Even the sad wrecks the scavengers lived on were remnants of the Empire. I passed the trading station, and I heard you arguing. You were angry, and the Force flared through you like fire."

Her voice was just a thread. "I had it then?"

"You've always had it. You just didn't know it until Starkiller."

"Go on," she choked.

"You were so angry, and so young. I didn't even have to approach you to see your potential."

Her eyes stung. "Then why did you leave me there? Jakku was—it was—" she broke off, composed herself. "I could have died."

His face was resolute, remorseless. "It was the safest place for you. I found a lot of Force-sensitives, Rey. A few of them are among the Knights of Ren."

"And the others?"

He didn't answer for a moment. "You're the only one left."

She considered that. Chewed on her lip. "Why did you spare me?"

"I didn't just feel your power … I felt your emptiness. It spoke to me. It made m—" he broke off, shook his head. "I questioned the slug who runs the trading post about you. He said your family abandoned you there."

Abandoned. _Abandoned._ She started shaking, the truth of it clenching her stomach. It was unreasonable, she knew it was. She wouldn't have gone with Kylo Ren willingly. She'd finally accepted the truth of Maz's words about her family never coming back from her, but when she was 14? No. Never.

But all she could think of was that this powerful man had found her, and could have helped her, and didn't. "So you just left."

His eyes were beseeching. "I gave the slug more credits than he'd ever seen to watch out for you. To ease your way."

As if Unkar Plutt would ever hold up a bargain without a knife at his throat. "Why didn't you take me with you?"

"The Knights of Ren are a religious order, Rey, and they were ruled by a jealous god. If I brought you in, Snoke would have insisted that you train under him. His training was not gentle."

" _Jakku_ was not gentle," Rey shot back.

"Rey, I'm covered in scars. Most of them I received in training. And the most painful aspects didn't leave marks. This is a creature who convinced me that I needed to kill my own father to further my training. What do you think he would have done to you?"

She was silent for a moment, allowing his words to sink in. She couldn't repress a shudder, chilled beyond measure at the thought of being at Snoke's mercy.

"That's if he found you sufficiently dark. If not, he would simply have killed you without a second glance."

"Why didn't you protect the others? The ones who didn't join the Knights of Ren?"

"You greatly underestimate Snoke if you think I could have done that. One girl, one lie, I could hide. What you're talking about? He would have felt it from across the galaxy. He would have torn through me from his lair without moving his hand. Then my successor would have found all of you, and it would have been for nothing."

She looked at him, his sensitive eyes, his angular ugly-beautiful face dotted with moles and freckles and her own mark slashed across it.

"Why didn't you recognize me? On Takodana?"

"They mentioned a girl from Jakku. I was intrigued, but I couldn't be sure. I didn't know until the interrogation room, when you asserted your power. Then Snoke called me from our interrogation and demanded to know what you'd told me, and I couldn't hide you anymore. So he told me to bring you to him. He said that he would show me the dark side."

She shook her head. She didn't want to hear any more.

"Then, out there on the snow, everything became clear."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I knew it wasn't just compassion for a girl who'd been thrown away. I knew it was deep, and it was forever."

She was shaking. She couldn't stop. He was shaking, too, she thought. "So now I'm your prisoner."

"You're my apprentice."

"But that's not what you want."

He closed his eyes, seemed to reach for control. When he opened them, they speared her in place. "You _glow_ like a goddamn supernova. Don't think there isn't another Snoke out there somewhere, looking to latch on like a parasite and make you his puppet. If you don't master the Force you're going to draw them to you for the rest of your life, no matter how well you hide."

Fear prickled at her. "You studied the Force, but Snoke was able to get to you."

If anything, Kylo went paler. "My family spent more time lying to me than protecting me. I'm not going to soothe you with lies or spoon-feed you watered-down Jedi-sanctioned exercises. I'll teach you what you need to stay safe. Maybe you'll fight. Maybe you'll just cloak yourself. That's up to you."

"And then you'll just let me go?"

His face clouded. "I'm not holding you here."

Rey raised her eyebrows.

"—forever. I'm not going to hold you forever. I don't want to. I want you to stay here because you want to."

"How can I make that choice if you won't let me leave? If I'm not given a choice I can't make that decision."

"I'll let you make it. Eventually."

"When you've kept me here so long you think I'll just fall in love with you?"

He flinched, as if she'd struck him. "I want you to. You'll have your choice. If you stay, then we'll both know."

She chewed her lip. She should throw a denial in his face, laugh at him. Tell him he would wait forever.

She didn't. She couldn't.

When she spoke, her voice was soft. "And that's everything?"

"Yes."

This time she didn't slam the door. She shut it softly, watching as his face fell. She turned the lock, and after a few minutes his footsteps faded down the hall.

And she was alone. Again.

* * *

She didn't remember her parents.

She remembered being held. Sung to. Maybe _remembered_ wasn't the right word: She remembered the memory. The bare outline was there, the barely recalled sensation of home and family. Of having a family and a place to belong. Enough that being left on Jakku was a wound that had never healed; she had survived struggle and deprivation and had kept herself going only with the thought of returning to that family, that place. After enough years of carefully preserving her memories, being careful not to take them out too much and drain their power, she found that they had faded like everything else left in the glare of the Jakkan sun.

But she couldn't remember them. They were only a need, something to pin hope on so she'd have a reason to endure. Like an anchor to moor her … or drown her.

Rey could feel anger rising, tightening her chest. She began to pace up and down the spacious bedroom, trying to calm herself.

She'd been broken. They'd broken her, and she'd lied to herself about it for years.

 _Air._ She needed air. She threw open the door to the balcony and immediately went to its railing, inhaling great lungfuls. Mist was rising off the lake, making it look even more dream-like. The air was crisp on her skin, and she welcomed it.

After a few minutes she began to calm, and she was able to think of her parents again without rage.

Were they still alive? Had they ever intended to come for her?

Had they known she was Force-sensitive, and had left her there to protect her, as Kylo Ren had?

She believed him. He had tried to protect her, in his stunted way. Tried to prevent her from becoming him. Even then he'd recognized its catastrophe … yet he'd stayed with Snoke for five more years. Why had he done that?

She knew. She knew why better than she wanted to. He'd stayed because he had nowhere else to go.

She told herself he could have returned to his family, but rejected the thought as soon as it came to her. He would never have gone back. As far as he was concerned his parents had abandoned him as much as he'd abandoned the light. He had his own pain and anger, and even if he left Snoke he would not return to his old world.

So Snoke was all Kylo Ren had.

She recalled, suddenly, the voice that had spoken to her as she knocked Kylo to the snow on Starkiller, sibilant and dark beyond measure, encouraging her to finish Kylo. That had not been a part of her; the darkness, maybe, but not the directive.

 _That_ had been something old and foul, and, her skin prickling with realization, she knew that it was the same thing Kylo had shielded her from years before. She had felt the tendrils of ineffable power brushing against her, a night-dark well of evil. She had shuddered under the strain of resisting its exhortation, and knew that as a child she wouldn't have been able to endure it. She would have bent to become like Kylo, or else she would have broken.

She would not have been _Rey_ anymore.

 _He thought I'd been too gentle with you, so he told me to bring you to him, that he would show me the dark side._

But Kylo hadn't. He'd asked her to leave with him. It hadn't been a trick to take her to Snoke; on the edge of the cliff, when she'd reached into his mind, she'd seen his plans for them to flee, his desperation that they never be found.

Rey looked down at the garden they had wandered the previous night. He had cradled her hand, wrapped her in his arms. Brushed kisses against her hair. Treated her like she was precious.

There, in the moonlight, was Kylo Ren. He was looking right up at her balcony, at her, and she knew everything.

He hadn't killed Snoke because he'd tried to force Kylo to renounce the light; he'd done it to save her. He'd killed his master to protect her.

Her, a scavenger. She was nobody: Luke Skywalker wouldn't teach her; the Resistance didn't value her; her own parents had abandoned her. She was nothing and nobody.

But Kylo Ren had killed his master for her.

Rey turned on her heel and went back into the room. His gaze had been heavy upon her, filled with terrible longing.

She had never thought about what her parents had taken from her, only her grief at being separated from them. Her bone-deep longing to return to them.

But now, as she thought about Kylo Ren, she knew, sharply, that this was because of them. Because for her—thrown away, soothed with empty promises—being wanted like this was more tempting than anything she'd ever seen. A man who lied to protect her, even when she was nothing to him? Who killed his mentor for her? It was heady, impossible. A glistening, poisonous fruit.

How would she feel years from now, remembering Kylo Ren, if she gave in to her need to be wanted? If she reveled in everything he had to give her until her soul didn't ache anymore? Would she excoriate herself with the memory of her weakness … or remember it wistfully?

She could maintain her distance, stalwart and virtuous. The same as she always had.

She'd always been so good. Refusing what would be easy or soft, always waiting, always faithful.

Defiance began to throb in her chest. She was agreeing to nothing by allowing him to teach her. She agreed to nothing until she did, and even if she did she would retract that as she pleased. And he would defer to that. He would defer to _her._

And if he didn't want to, she would raise the shuttle and leave, and use everything he'd taught her to ensure he'd never find her.

A breeze swept through the room—not from the balcony; she had shut the door when she came in. It was from the still-open closet. It drew Rey from her thoughts, and she felt almost as if she were waking up.

She passed through the closet to the room beyond. The gowns were still proudly displayed; she hadn't closed the cabinets earlier, or the door to the balcony. She started for the balcony, but her feet slowed as she passed the cabinets, and she couldn't stop herself from reaching out to touch the rich fabrics. Tears stung her eyes, and she forced herself to step back.

Rey reached for the balcony door, then hesitated. Curiosity drew her out, and there he was still, staring up at her windows. Force-sharpened senses be damned, he didn't even notice her on the other room's balcony.

And she knew, as much as she knew when to seek shelter in the desert, that she wasn't some pet to him; he didn't want to cosset her.

He wanted to _worship_ her.

* * *

His gaze was unrelenting, as if he could call her down by the weight of his desire. And so he didn't see her at first, slipping down the stone steps, her delicate slippers making no sound. The cuffs of the silver-spangled gown lapped over her wrists, and its airy cloak drifted behind her.

A leaf crackled beneath her foot, and he turned. The awe on his face should have been humbling, but instead it made her feel powerful beyond measure. For a moment he didn't move, but then he drew himself up to his full height and held out his hand.

And she went to him.


	6. Chapter 6

The dream had been luscious, the details vivid. The weight of his hand on her back, the faint breeze of his breath against her temple. Endearments, low and jagged, muttered in her ear.

Rey stretched, luxuriating in the vast bed. She touched her cheek, remembering the feel of her fantasy-borne Kylo ghosting his fingers over it, his eyes tracing their progress. As she moved her hand, fabric heavy with silver thread and glittering stones brushed against her face, and the truth returned to her.

It was real. They had never been dreams, and she had accepted it. Accepted _him._

 _What had she done?_

* * *

She moved downstairs apprehensively. Would he be—expectant? Smug? Did he think she was his now? That she'd be compliant?

Kylo Ren was in the kitchen, slicing a round loaf of bread, the crust crackling as the knife slid through. He picked up a shard and popped it into his mouth, his full lips working as he chewed it.

She felt sick suddenly, her stomach clenching. She wanted to—run? Away? To him? To bite his lips, tear at him?

With a start she realized she was rubbing the nape of her neck. The night before, beneath the stars, he'd pressed his lips against the spot until it burned. Her face turned hot and she jerked her hand away with a gasp.

He looked up, spearing her with his eyes. When he registered that it was her his expression became sensuous, confident. Proud. He was _proud_ that she had joined him in the garden. Was she an achievement to him? Something to be conquered? Why, _why_ had she come downstairs, last night or this morning?

Even as she stared at him his confidence began to waver, uncertainly clouding his eyes. Doubt crept in. Now she saw a different kind of pride, a refusal to beg, a line he was trying desperately not to cross. With her his armor was a mere suggestion.

She'd been right the night before. She really did hold all the power.

"Did you sleep well?" His expression had sunk into caution.

She nodded. She had gone to bed with her spirit floating, dazed by the night and Kylo's touch and the weight of his adoration, and had drifted off in moments. No wonder she hadn't realized the nights in the forest were real. Last night seemed as hazy and moon-drunk as a fever dream.

"Did you … dream?"

She stared at him, his shoulders hunched, brows drawn. She knew what he was looking for.

She wasn't sure she if she should to give it to him.

She had always been as direct as possible. But she didn't want to give him hope for anything more than the present, because she was making no promises. She would indulge herself as long as she wanted. If he wanted more—if he had a thousand villas with a thousand gardens, and thought the parade of opulence would bewitch her into permanence—that was his own disappointment to reckon with.

If this was what he most wanted, this with her, then at least he would have had it for a time. Most people never had as much.

She never had, and she accepted that she never would. But he was greedy. She felt it with every lick of his eyes.

Was it crueler to tell him she would leave, and allow it to color their time together? Or allow him to enjoy this interlude for as long as it lasted, with no looming shadow?

She knew, looking at his increasingly troubled expression, that not telling him was the only choice. She would let them both enjoy it for as long as it lasted, and when she bid him farewell she could only hope he would be able to recall the sweetness of their time instead of the bitterness at its end.

She thought, suddenly, of the confrontation on Starkiller, the snow falling around them. His possessiveness of Luke Skywalker's lightsaber. The way his rage had spiked every time he looked at Finn.

Even with his father's evanescence still clinging to his saber, he'd regarded her as his.

Damn her parents, _damn_ them. They'd left her, made her desperate, so desperate that the thought of Kylo Ren's burning intensity focused on her, wanting her more than anything else, placing her at the center of his existence, didn't horrify her, not the way it should. It made her want to bite down and hold on tight.

But she belonged to herself. She was nobody's possession. She'd beaten him once, and when she decided to leave she would, if necessary, do it again. If he gave her no other choice.

She drew herself back to the moment and forced herself to smile, a talisman against him creeping into her mind. "I slept very well. No dreams at all."

His face crumpled a little, his disappointment painfully evident. He was unhidden, like a child. A child she'd never been, because it had never been safe for her to display her vulnerabilities. But Kylo Ren, who'd had everything she hadn't and now had even more, counted that among his many luxuries.

Yet Snoke had stalked him, and his parents had passed him over to Luke Skywalker rather than help their own son. He'd had everything, but the most important things, the most necessary, he'd lost. Maybe that was why he was so eager, now, to claim things as his own—the lightsaber, the galaxy...her. Because back then he hadn't been able to hold onto what really mattered.

An unwelcomed pang of recognition prodded at her, interfered with her clear thinking. "I must have been tired from our walk in the garden."

He blinked and brightened, damn him, color climbing in his cheeks and crawling up his ears. It touched her and troubled her in equal aspect.

Dammit, she shouldn't be reassuring him. For the moment their interests intersected, but she had no obligations to him.

She had to stop thinking of it, all of it. She was sick of her past haunting her, and didn't want his joining in. And she wasn't going to think about what kind of a future she might have with him, because this was about the present. This place out of time, these moments she could allow herself without remorse or self-recrimination, when she didn't have to scrape and scrounge to live, when she wasn't trying to be brave or good or patient, when no one was looking at her or judging her or trying to take what she'd fought for.

This was a dream, like the nights on D'Qar, and eventually she'd wake up. And then she'd leave, and it would recede into the past harmlessly, leaving no mark upon her soul. Because for all intents and purposes, it wasn't real.

She couldn't let herself forget that.

"I'm hungry," she said.

Immediately he handed her a piece of the bread. She bit into it without waiting for butter or jam; they were still luxuries, to her mind. As she chewed, he hurriedly began plating food and piling dishes on the table. She trailed after him, her attention caught by a platter of little rolls that had dark juice sluicing down the sides; she bit into one and found that while the exterior was some kind of flaky pastry, the interior was filled with ground meat and spices. She murmured in pleasure, finishing it in two bites and reaching for a whole handful more, her fingers bulging out shamelessly.

"Have you always cooked?"

He looked up from pulling open a reddish-purple fruit. "No. There was seldom either need or opportunity to cook in the First Order. I knew I would have to cook for us, so I watched some lessons on the holonet. The holonet is flooded with cooking lessons. That and vids of housecats."

She looked at him closely. "And before?"

For just a moment he froze. Then he shrugged, an unconvincing show of indifference. "Occasionally my mother cooked. I used to help her in the kitchen."

She tried to picture him small, trailing after his mother, and failed. She couldn't imagine him not being tall and forbidding. She shut her eyes and tried again, just brushing against the edges of his mind, and there he was, barely up to the counter, curls flopping in his face, spilling more than he stirred. Laughing up at his mother with delight. A thrill of pain pierced her heart, and she jerked back to the present.

He was staring at her, trying to figure out what had distracted her. She shoved the fragment back, not wanting the shards of the past to rake at him as they had her.

After a moment she realized what she'd done, and her appetite dissolved. The mysteries of attraction she could accept as random madness, beyond control. But she'd just protected his feelings. The feelings of a man who had tortured Poe, killed his father. Injured Finn. Slaughtered padawans.

No. No, that was wrong: They'd attacked him. She wouldn't blame him for defending himself. He should never have been in that position. The students shouldn't have attacked, and Luke should have been there to help. And his parents should have told him the truth years before. He was the least to blame of all for him being called Jedi Killer.

She didn't see how they could have done it, the general and Han Solo. They were wonderful people. They were good and kind. Yet they'd neglected him. He'd fallen, but only because they'd left a trip wire. It was the first movement in a chain reaction. He shouldn't have done it, he shouldn't have fallen, but he wasn't alone. He should be blamed, but so should others. Yet they went on, admired by the galaxy, living legends, while Kylo struggled alone with a monster—first in his mind, then at his shoulder.

He held out his hand, offering her a palmful of glistening seeds.

She accepted them, and didn't think to flinch when her fingers brushed his.

* * *

After breakfast they went outside for forms.

Forms, Kylo said, was the study of fighting styles. As far as Rey was concerned, it was pointless: she already had a fighting style.

"Not with Jedi weapons," Kylo returned when she protested.

"You mean like lightsabers?" she challenged.

He only smiled a little. "You did well at the Jedi trick of climbing into my head and stealing knowledge."

"Who do you think I learned that from?" she shot back.

He was unperturbed. "That wasn't criticism. As for your fighting, until you pulled the knowledge from me, you attacked as if you were using a staff. You wasted the vast potential of that saber by using it like a blunt object. Lightsabers aren't bludgeons; they're a surgeon's tool."

She stared in disbelief; he had years of training and experience, but he swung that obscene saber of his around like a club. On Starkiller he'd relied on the brute force of his swing, not the searing edge of his saber.

"It was good enough to beat you."

"It was, when I was bleeding out from a center-mass bowcaster shot. Wouldn't you like to be able to do the same when I'm healthy?"

She was tempted to deny it. She could take care of herself already, and something about the way he phrased the question almost made her think he'd guessed her exit strategy.

But he hadn't. She knew, as she examined his face—challenging, with just a tantalizing hint of dimple showing—that he simply thought her contrary. Which, she admitted to herself, she could be, especially with someone so overwhelming.

Just the same, she wasn't going to admit anything.

He rolled his eyes a little, going over to the bag he'd carried out and rooting around in it a bit. "When was the first time you used a staff?"

"Not long after I left Unkar Plutt."

"How old were you?"

"Ten. I think." The same age he'd been when his parents shipped him off.

He tilted his head. "Do you know how old you are?"

She averted her eyes. Jerked her head once, a single, sharp _no._

"Why did you leave Plutt?"

She shrugged. "I was getting big."

"Meaning?"

"Children are only of use to him when they're small."

"Because they can fit into tight spaces inside wrecks?"

She bitter laugh escaped her. "That's not what he wanted us for."

Just for a moment Kylo's face contorted, frightening her, before he smoothed out his expression. "Which was?" His voice was tightly controlled.

"Information. People talk around children, like they're animals. Like they won't remember it and tell. There wasn't much to hear from the locals, but there were always new ships coming in. He called us his mice."

Kylo exhaled. He tucked something she couldn't see into his pocket, then squeezed her arm. She didn't think he was even aware of the soothing gesture.

"When we got bigger, we became rats, he said. Didn't blend in anymore, and took up too many of his resources. So we became desert rats. We scavenged enough for ourselves or we didn't survive."

"But you did survive."

She turned to look at him squarely. "That's what I do."

"I wish I were as strong as you."

Rey frowned, startled by the admission. Kylo was an emperor. He ruled half the galaxy, apparently. For most of his life he'd been regarded as the chosen one, the general had told her. And he wished he was as strong as her? A desert rat?

She'd fought, struggled, sometimes starved, but she'd managed to keep herself from the lowest, most desperate acts on Jakku. But Kylo had fallen to the furthest depths from an impossible height. She'd read, once, that divers could become sick after moving through changing depths too quickly. Kylo had moved through them so fast it was a wonder he'd survived at all. He still hadn't adjusted; he thought he was in a submerged cavern, and couldn't see the sun piercing the water.

Maybe he did envy her.

"We'll start with shii-cho. It was the first form any baby Jedi learned. It's wild and unpredictable—perfect for you."

He was calling _her_ wild? That was ridiculous.

"You started shooting the moment you saw me and just kept going," he reminded her. "I asked you to train with me, but in response you kept swinging. Don't tell yourself you're not savage. You're the fiercest thing I've ever known. All that fury, guarding all that hurt."

Despite his words, his eyes were tender, and her annoyance began to drain away. "I had to take care of myself."

"Of course."

"If I didn't, no one else would."

He shook his head vehemently. "Don't ever justify yourself. You're perfect. You're stronger than any Jedi ever was. You were dropped on Jakku like a foreign seed, and the wind should have blown you away. Instead you grew strong and proud, and when that world became too small for you, you left before you could become root-bound."

She rocked back, shaken by his intensity. "I—I left because of BB-8."

"You could have activated the homing device on the unit, but you knew it was time to leave. Jakku is nothing, and you were meant for greatness."

"It would have been risky to activate the homing mechanism," Rey said weakly. "The First Order might have tracked it."

"And flying into space on a pile of junk for someone else's fight wasn't risky?" He didn't wait for a response, slipping behind her, his breath disturbing the wisps of hair that had escaped her buns. He moved closer until his cheek brushed hers, and for the first time he arms slid around her in the light of day. Her vision hazed and she fought for composure, forcing herself to remain upright when the urge to lean back against him was painful.

She didn't need the restraint anyway. He pressed himself against her, snug enough that she could feel his chest rising and falling against her back, as if they were breathing as one. Her knees went weak—that was a real thing? She'd thought that was nonsense writers made up—and her head became so light she felt like she was floating, like she had in the garden last night, in the forest on D'Qar. In her dreams.

In their shadow life, the one only the two of them knew about.

For a long moment they just stood together, drifting. Then he lifted one of her arms, positioning it carefully. The other followed, then her stance. "Shii-cho." His hand, impossibly large, cradled hers. He traced his fingers around her palm, then drew a small lightsaber from his pocket and folded her hand around it.

"It's a training saber," he told her, igniting it so the misty green blade extended. "It can't do anything more than sizzle a little. For shii-cho, you'll want to use it like a sword. It's simple, but effective." He guided her hand into in a straight sweep. "Horizontal slash." He drew her hand back and brought it across in a wide swath. "The sarlacc sweep." A short, quick slice. "A disarming slash."

"So now we fight?" She felt no impulse to move.

"Not quite." He released her, and she felt a faint rustling behind her. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she said, which was the truth. She winced. "No," she corrected, which was the truth.

His laughter was warm against her ear, and she had to remind herself not to let her knees buckle. "You can. You should." His fingers brushed against her temples as he slid a soft band of fabric across her eyes. She felt him knot it behind her head. "Practice in shii-cho emphasizes the connection to the Force, so you sense your target rather than see it. Eventually you'll trust what the Force tells you more than what you see."

She leaned back a little despite herself. "You'll have the advantage."

"You won't be fighting me until you're more advanced. For these early training sessions you'll use a seeker droid. It'll emit a low-level beam that stings when it makes contact. It doesn't really hurt, but you won't enjoy it."

He pulled away, the sudden coolness at her back leaving her strangely bereft.

"I'm going to release the seeker now. Be ready."

After a moment she heard the telltale hum of electricity, the faint hiss as the droid maneuvered in front of her. She tried to concentrate and took a jolt; mild. She'd had worse, much worse, while scavenging in wrecks that hadn't completely discharged their power supplies. She tried again and sensed in time to duck, but not strike.

Another moment gone, another attempt at sensing the droid through the Force, and she had the satisfaction of landing a blow. _How was that possible?_ "How old were you when you learned this?"

"Ten."

"Is this the style you use?"

"No, I use djem so when fighting. When you shot at me, I used shien to deflect the bolts."

She evaded another blast, then another, before landing another blow. She remembered back on Takodana, Ren approaching as she'd fired at him. He'd swept the bolts aside easily, his movements graceful. A sharp contrast to his heavy, inelegant blows on Starkiller. "I want to learn how to do that."

"You will. You'll learn all of it. You can take the fruits, leave the rinds. Twist every tradition until it suits you. The Jedi Order is done. The Sith are gone. Their rules mean nothing anymore. Take their learnings how you wish, without their prejudices."

"And the other things? What else will you teach me?"

The humming in the room stopped, and a moment later a warm hand cupped her cheek. Behind her she feel him tug at the blindfold's knot. A moment later he pulled it away.

His gaze was warm. "Everything, Rey. I'll teach you everything you want to know."

* * *

The water was dark blue, sparkling. She'd dreamed of such things on Jakku. It was more luxurious, more unimaginable, than anything in that kingly villa.

And it could kill her more easily than anything on the planet.

"Come on."

She looked up, saw Kylo's outstretched hand. Looked back to the water. Her fantasy of lazing in water now seemed delusional, a desert-driven mirage. And the thought of swimming to her freedom? Ridiculous. She wasn't swimming anywhere. She wasn't even sure she wanted her freedom, not yet. Not until he'd taught her the ways of the Force … and other things.

She shook her head. "This is stupid. Let's meditate."

"No, you have to learn how to swim."

"Why?" she demanded, trying not to panic.

"Because we're on a lake. Because there are planets that are mostly water. Because sometimes ships crash. I know it's strange, but it's easier than the learning the Force. All you have to do is relax."

In the precious moments after a rare shower on Jakku, before the heat had parched her skin dry, she'd imagined that she'd just stepped from a lake. The fantasy had been bitterly beloved. She'd regretted it every time the last drops had dried and the dream slipped away. _It doesn't have to be a dream._

He was already teaching her how to use the Force; she might as well allow him to teach her in this as well. He'd never let anything happen to her. She knew that like she knew her own name.

Her gaze darted from the water to his outstretched hand and back again.

She lifted her hand, and he squeezed it. "Come on," he repeated, drawing her towards the pebbly beach. Short and narrow, it was the only piece of shoreline that allowed ready access.

He dropped her hand and pulled his tunic over his head. She tried not to gasp, but she somehow hadn't expected that. But they didn't have bathing costumes, did they? There wasn't really a choice.

He heard her, of course, and turned swiftly, and this time she really did gasp. His shoulders, pale as marble, were broad, his chest and arms heavily muscled. But across his shoulder and down one arm was an angry red swath, a reminder of a vicious fight.

A reminder of her.

She stepped closer, unable to suppress a little sound, a wordless apology. His face had been repaired, mostly—the thin mark left only served to make him look romantic. But this, the dark ropiness trailing down his arm, was evidence of a traumatic wound. She'd slashed him and left him for dead. He looked at the reminders of that every day, and still he wanted her.

She reached out, hand shaking, to touch his shoulder. He shuddered when she made contact, his eyes closing. Rey was aware of the faint lapping of the water on the shore, of his jagged breaths. She didn't know how long she stood there, stroking his scar, as he trembled under her hand. Finally she recalled herself, but before she could pull away he clapped his hand over hers, holding it tight against him. "I didn't mean to hurt you," she whispered.

His voice was low. "You could never hurt me."

"The scar—"

"When I woke up in the transport, there were bacta patches on my face. I pulled them off. I only let them stem the bleeding on my arm; I wouldn't allow them to use a bacta tank when we got to the _Finalizer_. I would never allow anyone erase your marks. They'll always be a part of me."

 _You'll always be a part of me_. She could feel the unspoken words lingering in the air between them.

His hand tightened on hers before releasing it. He glanced away for a moment, seeming to regain his composure. "Are you ready?"

Rey nodded, feeling rattled. He courteously turned his back on her when her hands went to the drawstring of her trousers, and he dragged off his own pants, leaving his swimming briefs. They were, she thought, purely for her peace of mind; in this hidden place, they weren't needed. She pulled off her clothes and tugged, a little self-consciously, at the snug black suit that cupped her body. She'd seen enough holos to know this one was modest, and she was grateful.

After a moment he turned back and took her hand again, drawing her closer to the waterline. They stepped into the tiny waves rolling on the beach, and he paused a moment for her to get used to the water caressing her feet. It was cooler than she had expected; for some reason she'd thought it would be warm.

They walked out slowly: Ankles covered, then knees. She was only a little nervous: He was holding her hand. As the water lapped at her thighs, he halted. "Wait; it drops off here. I'll go out and ease you in."

He released her hand and waded out. She turned back and looked at the shore, which seemed further away than the few steps they'd taken, much further. Her heartbeat seemed louder; was that possible? With every moment the beach looked further away. She turned around; Kylo was in front of her, one step, two, three—

Rey panicked and lunged forward, reaching for Kylo, but knocking them both into the water, water deep enough that her legs paddled desperately for purchase and found nothing. She opened her mouth to cry out, but was overcome by water, and her movements became frenzied.

Suddenly she was hauled up against a hard chest, warm beneath the water sluicing down it, cradled tightly. She was gasping, her breath ragged and desperate, the panic still working her. He rocked her and crooned, his words unintelligible but soothing. Slowly she began to relax, not trusting the water, but trusting him.

Eventually his warmth crept into her and she looked around a little, marveling that she was in a lake. She had dreamed it all her life, and now it was real.

She looked up at him, his pale face bent to her. His damp curls tousled around his head, cheeks still shimmering with droplets of water. She wanted, suddenly and with painful intensity, to lay her hand against his cheek, to press her lips to the broad bridge of his nose. She wasn't in her right mind, she knew it; the feel of his arms around her, his heart humming against her ear. It was casting a spell on her. Instinctively she recoiled, startling him by jerking away. The second she hit the water reality returned, but before she could cry out he swept her up, stroking and soothing.

"I fell," she hiccuped, shivering against him, wrapping her arms around his neck, making him her anchor.

"You're safe."

"Don't let me go," she whispered, clinging to him.

"I won't," he crooned. "I'll never let you go."

They were like that a long time. It felt very natural to wrap her arms around him, like she'd done it a million times before. He rubbed his face against her head, until he found a spot to nestle against.

"Do you like that?" he whispered, his breath brushing against her ear. She shivered and nodded.

She didn't know why she was shivering. She was safe.

* * *

Lunch was silent, the air heavy with unsaid words, untaken actions. Rey was aware of a weight pressing on her: She was trapped more completely than she had ever been on Starkiller. Her mind and body were conspiring against her, dragging her into a trap older than the Empire or the Jedi or belief itself; she didn't know if there would be anything left of her when the trap finally closed around her. The sharpness of the duality, the need to escape and the desire to submit, clouded her thoughts.

And still Rey couldn't stop stealing glances at Kylo. He wolfed down his food without taking his eyes off her, barely looking away even to cut into his cold chicken and fork up bites of salad.

 _Cut his food._ With a flash of embarrassment, Rey realized she'd been eating with her hands like the desert rat she was. She could feel her cheeks heating. She was painfully ignorant, not fit to be in this exquisite place. Even in the Resistance the way she ate had been the object of derision.

Across the table there was a clatter as Kylo dropped his silverware. Apparently it was time for him instruct her in etiquette the same way he did in the Force, and she cursed herself for not knowing what even children should. He was right: She was a savage.

But he didn't say anything. Instead he lifted a piece of chicken to his mouth and tore into it. She stared in astonishment as he took another bite, then another. A pinch of salad, then another mouthful of chicken.

"Eat," he told her, voice rumbling.

She dropped her head, her eyes stinging. She pushed her food around and tried to look busy.

She couldn't even see her plate.

* * *

The breeze was up when they sank down in the garden beneath the tree, the same spot they'd meditated the day before. Rey crossed her legs and shut her eyes, and didn't even try to slip into the Force before reaching her hands out.

Kylo took her hands in hers, as she'd known he would. She'd had no doubt that he would be there to guide and comfort her as needed. His thumbs began rubbing the same pattern on her palms as the day before, and it pushed her over onto the other side as if she'd been teetering on the brink.

She hadn't been. This was Kylo. This was what Kylo did to her.

They floated together, and she could feel ego and worry and even curiosity fade away in the heady void that was the light. He was there with her, slipping against her, nudging her when faltered. It was how she'd imagined swimming would be, power without corruption, freedom without danger. She rode the Force streams as they ebbed and flowed, brushing against Kylo, stretching, climbing, reaching.

It was he who released her hands and drew them out. It was a few moments before she could open her eyes, dazed by the intimate power of the Force, the communion they had shared. It was more intense than it had been the previous day, deepened by her lack of resistance. She looked up into his slumbrous eyes and saw an echo of her own bliss.

They were almost out from beneath the trees when Rey, unthinking, dropped the mat she was carrying. Kylo had just started to bend for it when she turned around, and when she cupped his face in her hands she didn't have to strain to reach his lips. He dropped his own mat and wrapped his arms around her, his grasp bruising, desperate. His lips, full and soft, parted beneath hers, and she swept her tongue inside, all desire with no finesse.

He didn't mind, clearly, meeting her tongue with his own and smoothing it, tempering its artless thrusts until he was languidly stroking it and she moaned helplessly against his mouth, shivering. He kneaded the back of her neck with one hand, the other just beneath the hem of her shirt, tracing the knots of her spine. She pressed closer and he suckled lightly on her tongue, and everything went white.

A bird called to another across the garden, its tone piercing, and Rey jerked back, stunned. Kylo's face was flushed, his lips parted. He was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, and she wanted him like she'd once wanted a rich, undiscovered wreck.

He reached for her, and she turned and fled into the house, and didn't stop until her bedroom door was shut behind her.

* * *

She hid in her room like a coward. She wasn't sure what she'd done, only that she'd had to do it. It had been no more of a choice than breathing.

She wasn't sure how long she was up there, trying not to think about the kiss and failing badly, when there was a knock at the door.

She blushed even to hear the sound, the thought of facing him after her boldness mortifying. He wouldn't care about her boldness, of course. But she didn't know how she felt about what she'd done, and she needed time. She didn't have that luxury, apparently.

She waited a moment before opening the door, willing the color to go down in her cheeks. As if she'd kissed a million men, as if it were an everyday occurrence. As if it were meaningless, when she herself didn't know what kind of meaning to apply to it.

Kylo was composed, no trace of the passionate lover remaining. He bore no tray of food this time, and his words were terse. "There's a bag in your closet. Pack it."

She stared at him in shock. She'd let go, for once in her life. Had followed an impulse rather than a plan, done something that felt good rather than something required to survive. And this—this was the result. She'd thought any rebuke would be her own. But Kylo Ren, so strange, so deep, surprised her. She didn't understand him at all, apparently. "You're taking me back to D'Qar?"

"No. We're going to Jakku."


	7. Chapter 7

Rey looked at the clothes heaped upon her bed, a vast pile. The suitcase wasn't large; she couldn't take everything. Decisions had to be made. She could take simple Jedi-style robes, or gowns encrusted with gems. Gowns that said, clearly, she was no longer a desert rat, and no longer subject to Unkar Plutt's whims. He had no power over her anymore.

She didn't want to leave Varykino yet. Most especially, she did not want to go to Jakku. Except for this.

They were going to find her family.

Her hand hesitated over a mound of clothes—replicas of her Jakku gear. If she wore them, she might feel calmer. More at home. Almost like she'd never left. Her hand hovered, shaking a little.

She grabbed the pile and threw it back in the drawer.

"You're still packing?"

She cast Kylo a frustrated look. He shrugged. "We can leave tomorrow," he offered.

She ground her teeth. "We're leaving _today._ "

"I don't think waiting a day will make much difference."

She ignored him. "Where's your crown?"

"What do you mean?"

"You're an emperor. You've got to have a crown!" She could hear how rattled she sounded, but she couldn't stop.

"Well, I wore one for my coronation—"

"Bring it!"

His brow furrowed. "Why?"

"So they'll know you're the emperor."

Kylo jerked his chin. "I don't need a crown to convey authority. Besides, it's not even here, it's in the royal treasury in Theed."

Rey looked at him in frustration.

"I have a collar," he offered finally.

She shook her head, disappointed. "Even people on Jakku aren't impressed by _collars._ "

"Not that kind of collar. This is a kind of jewelry. It goes over my shoulders and has my family's emblem on it."

"Is it impressive?"

Kylo sighed. "I suppose. Would you like me to bring it?"

" _Yes_."

"All right."

She returned to her packing. "Why don't you keep your crown with you? If I had a crown, I'd wear it all the time."

"Crown are usually only worn at state affairs. Do you … want a crown?"

She shrugged, self-conscious. She felt silly, saying that she'd wear a crown all the time. Big talk for a desert rat.

"You could have one," he suggested, voice mild.

"Don't make fun of me," she snapped, hunching her shoulders.

There was a long pause. "All right. Do you need any help?"

"I can do it myself," Rey said, shifting through the clothes, trying to find the exact items that would make her immune to every memory and judgemental glance on Jakku.

She wasn't aware of Kylo leaving the room, not until a chair squeaked as he pulled it closer to the bed and swung a suitcase onto it. A moment later he pulled another chair closer and opened a second bag.

"I could have managed," she sniffed.

He paused in the doorway. "You don't have to choose, Rey. You never have to choose."

* * *

The shuttle was on the lawn when she came down, its sleek sides still glittering with lake water. Kylo appeared silhouetted in its entryway, his garb as black and severe as ever.

"Where's your necklace?

"Collar. I'll put it on when we land."

Kylo reached for her bag, but she refused to relinquish it. For a moment they struggled over it before she realized there was no reason to fight and released her hold. He staggered back a bit and seemed to bite back a faint smile as he led her to the sleeping quarters. Most of the available space was filled with luggage.

He left her to poke around while he handled lift-off. She wanted to ask if she could pilot the ship, but she doubted he'd agree. She'd done her job a little too well: He had no faith that she wouldn't try to fly for D'Qar.

She wasn't sure whether to be pleased with his uncertainty or not.

The shuttle didn't have a lot of space. There was a small fresher and an area for dining. A narrow table held baskets of fruit and rolls. Icing glistened on the pastries, and the fruit was tauntingly ripe.

But she was too nervous to eat, and the realization made her feel a little sick.

She was going to find her family. Kylo seemed quite sure of their success.

Plutt had always bellowed at her when she'd pressed him. _They said they'd return, that's all I know. Now stop bothering me._ Why had she believed him? How could she have been so stupid? After all those years on that sand pit, how could she have not realized he wouldn't bother to tell the truth unless something was in it for him? If he'd told her how to find her family, he would have lost a valuable piece of chattel. With every day she stayed, she had lined his coffers a little more.

Well, he lost her and the _Falcon_ both, Rey thought with sudden, vicious satisfaction.

The floor began to vibrate: They were lifting off. She moved to a narrow window and peered out. The villa and its gardens were below them. She was seized, suddenly, by the desire to forget any thoughts of finding her family and dash back to the tranquility of the island.

But she didn't move from the window, and the island and even the lake grew small. Naboo's green and blue lushness grew clear, then distant; then they were among the stars, leaving the comfort of home behind and hurtling towards the place that had been her prison as long as she could remember.

She stood at the window a long time, her gaze tracing the place she knew Naboo had to be.

She didn't want to see Unkar Plutt, and she especially didn't want him to see her. She didn't want to feel his clinging gaze that seemed to size her up every time he looked at her. Kylo made her feel adored, almost venerated, and the thought of Plutt's demeaning gaze made her eyes sting. She'd never meant to leave Jakku without her family, not permanently, but suddenly it felt as if she were going to be stranded there anew and left to disappear into its sinking fields, with no one who cared if she lived or died.

A warmth she hadn't even been aware of began to peel away, and she had to fight the urge to wrap her arms around herself.

"Do you want a snack?"

She turned to Kylo. He was somber, that knowing little smirk of his nowhere in evidence.

Rey shook her head. "Did you bring the training droid? I want to hit something."

His mouth quirked, just a little. "I understand the impulse."

Yes, of course he did. She'd heard him demolishing the kitchen the day before.

"I didn't bring the droid or a training saber," he said a little apologetically.

"But you brought your lightsaber?"

"Yes, of course I brought my lightsaber."

"I can train with that."

Kylo's smile was tolerant. "I think not."

No. No, he _really_ didn't trust her. "I have to do _something_."

Instead of replying, Kylo lowered himself to the floor, resting his hands on his knees. Rey repressed a groan before sinking down as well. It wasn't going to work, even with his big hands on hers, soothing her. Even he wasn't that powerful.

"I won't be able to relax," she warned.

He didn't seem concerned. "You have to develop enough control to tap into the Force even when you're upset. That's when you most need it."

Rey shut her eyes and held her hands out expectantly. Nothing.

She opened her eyes. His were shut; he was probably already sliding into the Force. She reached out and tapped his hands, and he turned them over to cradle hers. She could tell he was trying not to smile.

She shut her eyes and reached out. The Force whipped around her, more violently than before. She tried to relax into it and instead was pushed from one eddy to another. It felt unwelcoming, almost hostile, like she didn't belong.

Kylo squeezed her hands. "Your feelings change from moment to moment, but the Force remains as it was," he murmured. "Many padawans quit training because they were unable to control their emotions enough to effectively access the Force."

She opened her eyes a sliver. " _You're_ emotional, but you control it."

He opened his eyes and met her gaze. "When I found you on Takodana, I was still a student. My inability to properly control my emotions led to me still following a master long after the age at which most Jedi had earned the title."

She shut her eyes and nudged against the Force again; it swatted her back like an annoyed cat. "But you were so strong."

"Yes. But my talent was undisciplined. Embracing my need for both the dark and light sides has given me the peace I need in order to fully embrace the Force. Most of the time. But sometimes help is needed."

 _Help?_ A faint sense of warmth came over her, and her tension began to dissipate. She was probably upset about nothing; mastery of the Force would come in time, and returning to Jakku wouldn't be so bad. Surely she—

Rey's head snapped up. She fixed Kylo with a deadly glare. "Don't. I know what you're doing. Stop it right now."

He held her gaze a moment, then nodded. Her anxiety returned full-force, her stomach turning to lead.

She hated it.

"Don't ever try to fool me about what I'm feeling. Ever. There were times when the inside of my head was the only thing I had, and I won't let you take that from me."

A look of ineffable sadness crossed his face. "I envy you."

She shook her head, not understanding.

He held up a hand to forestall any questions. "I was trying to ease your way, not lie to you. I won't interfere with your mind again. I swear."

It was on the tip of her tongue to say something reassuring, but she resisted the impulse. She didn't want him to forget it, ever.

She got up. Meditation over.

Kylo stood as well, stretching like a great loth cat. "Is there anything you want to do on Jakku before we go to the outpost? Visit your home, maybe?"

She opened her mouth. Hesitated. Surprised herself. "No." She'd spent too much time there, waiting and hoping and marking the days to a reunion that never came. She recalled the pathetic remnants of her life; the doll she'd made so she'd have something to love, the dried flowers she'd tried to imagine in bloom. Seeing them would only make her cry. And, in some buried part of her, rage.

"I've had guards stationed there. I didn't want anyone to ransack it."

She froze. "Have you ... been there?"

He nodded, his face impassive. She couldn't always read his expressions, but he was never _impassive_ ; he must have been trying very hard, this emotional man-boy. He'd seen it, then, seen the hash marks counting the days, the few pieces of flotsam that constituted her life. The reality that she'd been one poor haul away from starvation. He'd known she was a scavenger, of course, had thrown it in her face, but now it was immediate for him in a way stolen flashes of memory could never be. He knew exactly how far he'd fallen, because some worthless thrown-away girl had caught his attention by besting him with a saber. _How sad for him._

She turned away, cheeks burning. She felt exposed in a way she hadn't since she'd been under Unkar Plutt's thumb, and she was desperate for the feeling to end. She hadn't realized that she'd been free of it for months.

She'd do anything to free herself of the feeling.

"When I saw your shelter … I was ashamed."

She flinched. There it was: He'd seen everything. He knew how little she was. Dust and debris and nothing else. Not important, not special. Even her family hadn't found her worth keeping. She was junk, the same as everything else on Jakku.

"Look at me."

She forced herself to meet his gaze, afraid of what she'd see.

"I was born with everything. But you—you've got so much more."

His eyes speared her into place. "My Force abilities?"

"Your resilience." He reached out and cupped her cheek, and she had the mad urge to turn her face into his hand. "Your strength rebukes me. You would have seen through Snoke's lies. You would have held onto your family and found your way through the darkness. I can only dream of being as strong as you."

Tears stung sharply, and Rey closed her eyes, fighting them back. Kylo's thumb stroked her jaw, soothing her. Easing her.

"Jakku is _nothing_ , because it had you and lost you. You were thrown into a place that grinds people up, and you survived. And now you're returning to it the most powerful woman in the galaxy."

Something crashed in her mind, and Rey opened her eyes in shock. "I'm not—"

"You are. I just wonder when you'll realize it."

* * *

She'd forgotten how Niima Outpost smelled. Indescribably pungent, the scent of people who labored hard but had little access to water. A town where every street was a sewer, where funeral pyres were monthly and the bodies rotted where they fell until then.

As soon as the smell hit her, her stomach began to curl. _She was home_ , she thought, her mind ricocheting, trying to ignore the horrible notion. _She did not have to stay, she did not have to stay, she did not have to stay—_

She looked around, tried to seize control of her racing thoughts. People she'd seen all her life—and some new ones—looked back surreptitiously, their glances darting. She wondered if they recognized her. It had been several months, and she'd filled out a bit; she was no longer a few meals away from drying up and floating away. Her linen Jedi-style robes, while spare, were clearly expensive.

The gowns had been tempting, but they weren't quite her, at least not yet. If she wore them to Jakku, she'd feel like a fraud.

She winced and forced herself to admit the larger truth: She wasn't wearing one because the thought of it touching Jakku made her ill. She wanted those gowns to remain uninfected by Jakku's misery. The pleasure she took in the them was beyond reason or rationality, and she wanted, desperately, for that spot of beauty to remain unspoiled. This dreamtime would end soon enough as it was. She couldn't bear to have Jakku get on them. She carried enough Jakku with her already.

Beside her, Kylo's chin tilted proudly. Even without a crown, none could doubt he was a king. As promised, he wore the heavy gold chain draped over his shoulders, its elaborate badge resting on his chest; she realized now he hadn't needed it.

As they neared Unkar Plutt's tent, people began to cluster around, murmuring. And he was there, Plutt, shoving his way through and looking at them with disdain, a petty tyrant who thought himself a god.

His gaze landed on her with venom. "You've got nerve to come back here, girl."

The anger that nestled beneath her anxiety caught fire, beating hot against her breast. This man had tormented her, tormented all of them. He ruled the outpost with an iron fist, crushing the scavengers beneath his boot.

"You stinking desert rat; you ingrate! Think you could steal my ship and I'd just welcome you back? You stupid girl! I knew you'd back, and now you'll pay," Plutt spat.

Rey started to reach back before she remembered she wasn't wearing her staff. _Dammit._

Kylo stepped closer to Plutt. "No, she won't," he dismissed.

Plutt swung around to him, infuriated to be gainsaid. "Who the hell are you?"

Kylo raised an eyebrow. "You don't remember me?"

"I never forget a face. And I'd damn sure remember yours." Plutt stuck his chin out. He was big, fleshy and intimidating, but he was dwarfed by Kylo in every way. Plutt was a big man at Niima Outpost, but beside Kylo, he was merely a rodent.

And Kylo, looming over him, was a bird of prey. "I was wearing a black and silver mask … and was accompanied by the Knights of Ren. Do you remember now?"

The whispering of crowd became a steady buzz. "Kylo Ren," whispered Plutt. "You're the one who took over the First Order." The look on his face—Rey had never seen one like it.

Unkar Plutt was _afraid._

Kylo inclined his head. "Your mice are quite thorough."

Plutt started, clearly taken aback. And wary. He'd never had reason to be wary before, Rey knew. Wariness was for those who had no choice but to deal with him. "I don't know what she's been telling you—"

"Don't worry about what she's told me," Kylo said, stepping closer to Plutt. Plutt didn't move, as if rooted to the spot. Perhaps he was. "Worry about what _you're_ going to tell me."

Plutt tried to puff himself up. If he lost his sense of importance, his entire world would collapse, Rey knew. He was a petty despot on Jakku, and now he was confronted with true power. His pitiful illusions were exposed to the entire settlement.

 _It had to make him feel like a worm._

Somewhere inside her, beneath the apprehension and the nausea and the hope, Rey was glad.

"Look, Ren—"

"The correct address is _Emperor Amidala._ "

Plutt seemed to deflate before her eyes. "The Republic doesn't have emperors."

" _The Republic_ is considerably smaller than it used to be, and getting smaller by the day. Some worlds are conquered with diplomacy, some with force." Kylo stepped closer. Plutt, despite his size, looked soft and weak. "But _this_ dump, I bought. So you're right, I'm not so much your emperor as your landlord. And I'm feeling dissatisfied, so I suggest you remedy that as quickly as possible."

Plutt's eyes darted about. His face looked even clammier than usual. He was nervous. "What do you want to know?"

It was Rey who spoke. "Everything you know about my family. _Everything_."

Plutt barely glanced at her, his eyes on Kylo. As if it didn't matter what she'd said.

"You heard her," snapped Kylo, and Plutt jumped.

"Where's my family?" Her voice was very steady.

Plutt hesitated, and Kylo's arm shot out. Plutt uttered a sound she'd never heard before. It raised her skin into gooseflesh, and she realized Kylo had indeed been gentle when he pushed into her mind.

"Stop," Rey said, and Kylo lowered his hand.

"He wants to tear into you," she told Plutt dispassionately. "And if you don't tell me everything, I'll let him."

Plutt shook, eyes still glued to Kylo. Kylo began to raise his hand again, and Plutt's words poured out in a rush. "Her mother brought her. Came in on a cargo ship from Kildean. Gave me a ring to watch her and teach her how to scavenge. Wanted her to have a trade."

 _A trade_. Scrabbling around in garbage from the time she could hold a tool, days spent crawling through stifling-hot wrecks without finding enough for even an eighth portion. Her mother had considered that a _trade_? "And she told you she'd be back?" Rey demanded.

Finally Plutt looked at her, but he didn't meet her eyes. "She just said that to calm you down. You wouldn't let go of her."

"Get the ring," grated Kylo. Plutt jerked his chin, and a flunky ran into the tent and returned with a box. Plutt flicked through the contents, pushing aside bits of other people's dreams they'd been forced to surrender.

 _She just said that to calm you down._

Years. She'd waited and counted and labored for _years_ because of a lie. When Han Solo had offered her a job—her!—she refused, because she'd served that lie faithfully. If she'd had her way she never would have left. Her mother had consigned her to hell with a lie so she could leave her more easily.

Fifteen years, waiting on a promise no more permanent than the breath that spoke it.

With a grunt, Plutt pulled out a narrow silver ring with simple carving on the sides. Kylo snatched it from him and handed it to Rey. "Why didn't you give this to me?" she asked, staring at the ring. Her mother must have worn it, once. Maybe even treasured it.

"It wasn't yours," Plutt said resentfully. "It was mine. Payment. Thought I'd find a buyer."

Bile rose in Rey's throat, so strong she thought she might choke. Gods, she hated this man. Hated everything about him. Plutt looked to the side, where Kylo was glancing at the crowd, apparently out of earshot. "Landed yourself a big fish, girl," he muttered bitterly. She was beyond and above him, floating out of reach, and the knowledge had to eat at him. _Good_.

Kylo swung around, expression deadly. "What did you say?"

Plutt's face went slack.

"What … did you … say?"

"I'm sorry! I never thought—I didn't mean—"

"Liar!" Kylo spat, stepping closer, reaching a hand towards the Crolute. Plutt began to scream, more desperately than before. Suddenly Kylo jerked back, lowering his hand, his eyes black with rage. "You dared—you thought to—to—" he broke off, as if his thought was too disgusting to finish. "Apologize," he roared, throwing Unkar Plutt to the ground before her. "You thought to lay hands on her? To starve her into submission? To steal her earnings and then her body?"

Distantly Rey was aware of the crowd, growing and humming, like a massive insect.

"I—I never—"

" _Liar_." Kylo ignited his lightsaber.

The unmistakable sound, the scent of the plasma—not even Plutt's arrogance could withstand it. He crumbled, a pathetic heap of a man. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I wasn't going to, I swear I wasn't—"

She stared at him, at that despised face, and shook her head. He'd been preying on this outpost, on her, her entire life. He had begun his grotesque plan before she left, hadn't he? That was why prices for her findings had dropped. Because he was no longer content to look but not touch.

"Rey, you've got to—"

"You don't get to say her name," Kylo hissed. He lunged forward, and Plutt's face went slack as the blade slid through him.

Kylo jerked the saber back and raised it again, as if the death blow hadn't been enough for him. Before he brought it down he caught Rey's frozen expression and hesitated, then turned and slashed at the side of Plutt's stall with an enraged howl. He continued to expend his fury on the seat of Plutt's power, wiping him out in death as Rey had once longed to do in life.

Rey stepped closer to her former tormenter, nudged him with her toe. He lay there like a happabore gone too long without water. Like a defunct speeder.

Like a scavenger, dead of starvation because a petty overlord had wanted to line his pockets.

She stared at him, vaguely aware of Kylo's diminishing grunts as he destroyed what remained of Plutt's empire. By the time he was done, everything that had been Plutt's would be scattered to the wind. She wouldn't be surprised if Plutt himself ended up in a few pots this evening. Hunger and resentment created strange appetites.

Besides, they so seldom got seafood on Jakku.

Kylo stalked towards her. His touch at her elbow was gentle, although his hand still shook. He drew her towards the shuttle, and she couldn't help herself from casting a last look at the tyrant who'd ruled her life. He looked so small. The entire town looked small.

She turned away from the outpost, and didn't look back again.


End file.
